Lieutenants
by Scott Washburn
Summary: In "Tales from the Academy" young Anny Payne survived prejudice, hatred and dirty tricks to get her commission as Barrayar's first female officer. Now she and her friends face their first assignment: in an elite assault regiment. Will this be any easier than the Academy? Somehow, Anny doubts it!
1. Prologue

Lieutenants

A Fan Fiction Novel set in the Worlds of Miles Vorkosigan

By Scott Washburn

Author's Note: This story is a sequel to my fan fiction novel: "Tales from the Academy". If you have not read "Tales", I suggest you do so before reading "Lieutenants".

This story includes characters and settings created by Lois McMaster Bujold and are used without her permission or knowledge.

Prologue

"**S**he's left already?" asked Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan. "Drat, I was hoping to talk to her again. Aral and I are off to Sergyar tomorrow and there won't be another chance. If I'd known, I would have skipped the lunch with Alys." She took a seat in the Yellow Parlor of Vorkosigan House and accepted a cup of tea from Ekaterin, her daughter-in-law.

"She seemed rather eager to be off with Jer," said Ekaterin, smiling.

"Yes, I can understand that," replied Cordelia, smiling in turn and sipping the tea.

"I hope things can work out for them."

"They seem a good match, but who knows? They're so young. At that age if anyone had told me I'd end up here, I would have thought them insane."

Ekaterin laughed. "At that age I would have thought the same! Strange the paths life leads us down. It's a shame she didn't take up the Emperor's offer, though. Helen is very upset."

"She'll get over that. But Anny made the right decision, I think. She loves the soldiering life and being the Empress' bodyguard really isn't soldiering."

"I suppose not. But you are right, she does love it. And she seems very good at it. And it's wonderful how devoted her friends are to her. From what Miles tells me of her recent adventures she's won the respect of the men under her command, too. That's pretty amazing considered how hard they fought to keep her out of the military to begin with."

"Joan of Arc Syndrome," said Cordelia, shaking her head.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A legendary heroine of Old Earth," explained Cordelia. "She said that God had told her to lead the armies of France to victory so the prince could be crowned king. I could never quite understand why God would care who was king of France, but more to the point, Joan became a military leader in a society even more male dominated than Barrayar's. Many opposed her, of course, but those who believed in her _really_ believed, to the point of worship. I think it's like that here for Anny—not her personally, of course, but the men around her. Barrayaran men still can't really accept women as equals—at least not in something so traditionally male as the military."

"But she's certainly proved she can do the job!" protested Ekaterin.

"Yes, exactly. There's no denying what she's done—so they try to deny what she is. Since she _can't_ be a woman _and_ their equal then she has to be something more. Not an equal, but a superior. Joan claimed to be God's chosen tool and the men of France could accept that. They wouldn't follow an ordinary woman, but a woman chosen by God, well, that was a different matter! They don't go in for such things here on Barrayar, but the whole Vor system is based on some people being better than others even when they are clearly not. So they accept Anny as being something special, someone they can give their loyalty to without embarrassment because she is special."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's a good thing."

"In some ways perhaps. But it's a two-edged sword, Ekaterin. While she will attract a group of fiercely loyal people around her, she'll also collect just as many enemies and detractors. People who oppose her because she's a woman and those who are jealous of her success and resentful of the loyalty she inspires in others. In fact, it's a sword with two edges and a point. Because she's in a position where she dare not make a mistake. If she makes a major screw-up, she risks losing her band of supporters when they realize that she isn't really super-human after all. She may end up having to fall on that sword."

"Oh dear… but not Jer. Surely he'll stand by her!"

"One would hope. Not being Barrayaran, he's outside the normal rules. But Anny's walking a tightrope and there are still plenty of people hoping she falls."

"But they can't be thinking to stop women joining the military now! I understand there are nearly a hundred more entering the Academy this year. And Miles says they are even looking at letting women into some of the enlisted roles."

"No, they've lost that fight, but that won't stop the ones who are acting on prejudice—or anger. Anny's made some enemies, you know, and Barrayarans know how to hold a grudge. While I'm hoping that Anny is happy with her new regiment, now that I think on it, part of me wishes she'd taken the job with the Empress. She'd be a lot safer there."

The look on Ekaterin's face became one of surprise and concern. "Safer? Do you think there are people who would actually try to physically harm her?"

"I hope not, but who knows? There are the four officers who were court-martialed because they tried to rape her. They'd certainly have a motive. They and their families and their friends. You know how Miles suffered his pre-natal injuries: a duel, a man condemned for it, a vengeful brother, and a soltoxin grenade in the night. You, yourself survived an assassination attempt." Ekaterin stiffened and her hand went up to brush her neck.

"It's not Anny's fault those louts tried to rape her!"

"And it wasn't Aral's or my or Miles' fault that young fool fought a duel and yet here we all are."

"Oh dear…"

"I hope my fears are groundless," said Cordelia. "But I also hope that Anny is careful. Very careful." She finished her tea and set the cup on a table beside her chair. She didn't mention to Ekaterin that Joan had ended up burned at the stake…

[Scene Break]

Brigadier General Thayer Sylvanus stood and watched the Regiment of Cadets pass in review.

For him.

For the last time.

His tenure as commandant of the Imperial Service Academy had come to an end. The new commandant, Colonel Vorcourt, stood to his side and slightly behind him. The Change of Command ceremony had been completed and now the cadets were paying their final respects to him. It was an old, old tradition—like almost everything that happened at the Academy.

His emotions were kept as rigidly in check as his posture. As each company came abreast and saluted him, he returned their salute and blinked back tears. He'd known this was going to be hard, but he hadn't realized how hard.

He told himself he should be jubilant. He was wearing general's tabs on his collar and he had a new and important assignment ahead of him. Those were Academy traditions, too. A departing commandant was always promoted and given a good assignment. A reward for all those years riding herd on a bunch of snot-nosed kaydets.

But instead he was filled with a profound sadness. He tried to tell himself that he was just tired. But he knew that wasn't true. The truth was that he was going to miss this place. Miss those snot-nosed kaydets.

The 1st and 2nd Battalions had already gone by and the tail end of the 3rd Battalion was nearing him. They were looking quite good, Sylvanus thought. But now there was a stir among the assembled staff officers near him. The 4th Battalion was approaching and they… didn't look quite so good. Of course it would be unfair to expect them to look very good. They'd only been here a few days and had had no chance to do any serious drilling. He supposed he should have timed his departure differently, but it had just worked out this way.

Each of the ten companies of the battalion was still at full strength, a hundred strong. The inevitable weeding out process had pared the other battalions' companies down to sixty or seventy, but the plebes were still all here. They were led by the veteran sergeants who were acting as their company commanders until such time as they rated their own. A few of the other Academy NCOs had been added on as file closers to herd the young cadets through the review.

And they were wearing black fatigue uniforms rather than dress grays and they were marching without any weapons. But they were doing their best not to disgrace themselves and Sylvanus had certainly seen companies of raw recruits which had looked a lot worse than these boys.

Boys and girls.

There were six women in the 2nd Battalion and nineteen more in the 3rd, but they were swallowed up by the mass of young men and you had to look hard to spot them. Not so with 4th Battalion. The trickle of women applying to the Academy had grown to a stream. Over a hundred of them were with the incoming class. Still only a tenth of the total, but you couldn't miss them anymore. He glanced back at Vorcourt, trying to gauge his reaction to the women.

The last company marched past and shortly the whole regiment was back in line facing him and presenting arms. One final salute, which he returned and it was over. He sighed and his shoulders fell slightly, but a moment later he was surrounded by faculty and staff, shaking hands, saying good-bye. His personal aide, Paolo Scoggins, would be coming with him, but everyone else was staying behind. He'd miss them, too. They were good people for the most part. He hoped he could put together as good a team with his new command.

"Well, General," said Colonel Vorcourt when most of the other officers had dispersed, "let me congratulate you again on your promotion. I know you are probably anxious to be on your way, but I was wondering if you'd come back to headquarters and let me pick your brain for a bit before you go. Have a drink, perhaps?"

Sylvanus hesitated. He did want to get out of there, but he couldn't really refuse Vorcourt's request. So, he found himself walking across the enormous parade ground toward the building where he had spent so many hours. Vorcourt had already replaced all the furniture in what was now his office, so it seemed quite different. In a few moments they were both seated with drinks at hand.

"I must say the job seems a bit daunting from this perspective, General," said Vorcourt. "But I imagine you felt the same way when you took over."

"Yes," chuckled Sylvanus, "but we were still scrambling with all the changes required by the switch to the four-year curriculum. My predecessor did a good job when they dumped it in his lap, but changes like that can't be accomplished overnight—or even in a year. It took quite a while to get it all running smoothly. I'm hoping that we got it pretty well taken care of during my tenure and you won't have too much trouble carrying on."

Vorcourt nodded. "From what I've been able to see, I think you are right. I can't say that I fully agree with the changes, but that's not something either of us has any say over, eh?" Sylvanus just shrugged. "On the other hand, they managed to dump an entirely new mess in your lap, General, and I daresay _that_ is something I've inherited from you just as you inherited the previous mess!"

Sylvanus' eyebrows rose. He had been wondering what Vorcourt's feeling were about the female cadets—since that was obviously what he was referring to—now he knew. "It was quite a challenge dealing with them at first, Colonel, but I think we've gotten past the worst of it. The new women's barracks is working out well and the rules and procedures have, too. I think if you just continue as we've started you should make out all right."

Vorcourt snorted and shook his head. "I can see the view of those who support the new curriculum, but this! This is just a pack of nonsense they've done to win points with the Empress! Politics! It's been the bane of the service right along and this is just the latest example."

"Perhaps so, but I'm afraid that we—you—are stuck with it. They're here and I think they are here to stay."

"At least for the moment, I'm afraid you're right. But I'm praying that someone will come to their senses before irreparable harm is done. I mean I can even see there being some provisions for women in non-combat roles, but to expect women to lead men in combat—or for the men to follow them—that's just crazy."

"Not entirely crazy," said Sylvanus. "I assume you're aware of Lieutenant Payne's actions on her apprentice cruise last year. Quite an accomplishment for anyone, let alone a woman."

Vorcourt just snorted again. "More politics! If she'd been a man she would have been court martialed instead of given a medal! That kind of favoritism is going to demoralize the men!"

Sylvanus sighed. He thought back to the kind of 'favoritism' Anny Payne had experienced during her four years at the Academy. Harassment, verbal and physical abuse—he remembered her standing in this very office with two black eyes and her nose broken—and every dirty trick the people who opposed her could think of. The few bits of actual 'favoritism' that had come her way hadn't even been able to level the playing field—maybe just tilt it a little back the other direction. She had stuck it out and pushed forward through sheer grit. And then, faced with a difficult combat situation she'd taken charge and led her men into battle—and they'd followed her. In doing so she'd convinced a lot of people—including Sylvanus—but not everyone. Some would just never see and he was afraid that Vorcourt was one of them. And arguing with him would do no good at all… He got to his feet.

"Well, I do have to be going, Colonel. I'm sure you'll manage to cope with the situation the same as I did. Good luck." He held out his hand and Vorcourt shook it.

"Thank you, General, the best of luck to you, too."

The colonel escorted him out of the building where he met up with Scoggins, who was keeping his wife company. Darla had come for the farewell review and now he took her arm and they walked to where an aircar was waiting for them.

"So, are we off at last?" she asked.

"At last. Happy to be going?"

"Part of me is. I will miss the place, though. And I know you will, too."

Sylvanus grunted noncommittally.

"Yes, you will, don't try to deny it." He grunted again. "But such a long face! Are you worried about something?"

"Vorcourt seems very much against the idea of the girls being here. He could make things very difficult for them if he tried."

To his surprise Darla laughed and tugged at his arm. "Let him try! While you were off getting ready for the parade this morning, _I_ was having a nice little chat with the colonel's wife. Charming woman. She is absolutely thrilled having the girls here! And when I told her about your tradition of having a batch of cadets over to the house for Sunday dinner, she said she would continue it—and she plans to invite a lot of the girls, too! Let's just see him try to give them a hard time!"

Sylvanus chuckled. "Amazing."

"What?"

"That we men continue to deceive ourselves into thinking we run this empire."

[Scene Break]

"Lord Auditor Vorkosigan, Sire."

Gregor Vorbarra, Emperor of Barrayar, Sergyar, and Komarr looked up from his breakfast to see the diminutive form of Miles Vorkosigan brush past the servant with a casual wave of his hand.

"Morning, Gregor."

"Good morning, Miles. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Thanks," said Miles, helping himself to a cup and then sitting down opposite him. "What's up?"

"Well, nothing, really…" Gregor paused at the look of disappointment on Miles' face. "What? Are you getting bored, Miles?"

"It has been a while since anything interesting came along."

"Your definition of interesting almost always means a headache for me. Are you wishing me more headaches, Miles?"

"Of course not," replied Miles in a tone of voice that was not entirely convincing. "So what did you call me here for, Sire?" The expression on Miles' face grew somber. "I guess I ought to remind you that I was planning to leave for Escobar the day after tomorrow. I don't think I'll be gone that long. I'm at your disposal, of course, but if whatever you need could wait…"

"No need to change your plans," said Gregor very softly. "And Miles…? I'm very sorry to hear about Sergeant Taura." Miles nodded and looked away. "If there's anything I can do…"

"Thanks, Gregor, but I don't think there's anything anyone can do. But I do want to be there for her. It's… it's important."

Gregor cleared his throat and nodded. "This won't take long. I just want to get your opinion on something before you leave. Are you aware of the situation on Nova Paveo?"

Miles frowned. "Paveo? Is that the place where… no, that was Novo Hatana…"

Gregor smiled at his rare stumping of Miles. "It's a colony of the Nuevo Brasilians…"

"Oh right! I read something about that the other week. Some sort of uprising by the colonials?"

"Yes," replied Gregor, his smile fading completely. "And the latest word is that the NBs aren't going to take it lying down. It looks like it could get ugly. Very ugly."

"The NBs do have that reputation," said Miles, nodding. "But what does that have to do with us? I mean it must be a hundred jumps away, at least."

"A hundred and twenty-nine, actually, and through eighteen other inhabited systems."

"Right, so what does…?" Gregor raised his hand and cut off Miles' question.

"This came the other day," he said, picking up a flimsy from the table and handing it to Miles. "It's from the Polian ambassador." Miles took it and quickly scanned down it. His eyebrows jumped up and he looked at Gregor.

"Good Lord. Are you seriously considering doing this?"

"I haven't ruled it out. And it does open some interesting… possibilities."

"Yes, I suppose it would," said Miles with a calculating look on his face. "But have you considered the costs?"

"I have. The cost in treasure could be managed. The cost in blood…" he paused and looked sharply at his foster brother.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"**I** miss Patric," said Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, looking around the interior of the half-filled shuttle. The large farm boy from South Continent, who had been an almost constant companion during her four years at the Academy, was missing and it felt so strange.

"Yeah," muttered Alby Vorsworth from the seat opposite her. "Not the same without the big lunk."

"Well, it was a hard choice for him, but he did what he had to do," said Jer Naddel from beside her. "Sometimes family has to come first."

"I thought we were family," said Alby grumpily.

"Come on, that's not fair," said Jer.

"I sure hope you didn't say that to Patric!" said Anny. "He's got enough to worry about!"

"I'm not that stupid," said Alby defensively. "I just… well, I miss him, too."

Anny smiled and reached over and patted Alby's knee. "Yeah." Their friend, Patric Mederov, was supposed to have been going with them to join their new regiment, but a serious family emergency had forced him to go home instead. He'd managed to wangle a 'temporary' assignment with another regiment stationed near his home. They all hoped it was just temporary, but you could never tell with the military…

Anny looked out the small window beside her. The land beneath them was growing more rugged and tall pine trees covered nearly every bit of ground that wasn't too rough for them to cling to. A few patches of the red-brown native Barrayaran plant life showed through here and there, but Terrestrial vegetation was winning out as it usually did. They were headed to Fort Vorolson, which was in the foothills of the Parnassii Mountains, a towering range in Vortugalov District in the far northeast of North Continent. It was only about a thousand kilometers from Vorbarr Sultana but it was on the edge of the settled territories and beyond the mountains was the desolate north coast of the continent where few people lived. Only a thousand klicks farther north was the legendary Kyril Island. Just the place to put a military base.

The fort was home to several regiments and a number of smaller formations. Their regiment, the 61st Imperial Infantry (Assault), the 'Vorlinton Guards', was supposed to be a pretty good outfit. Anny was sorry that they hadn't been able to join the 42nd Infantry, which they'd been with for their apprentice cruise, but they were the victims of their own success. The 42nd might have been able to absorb four new ensigns all at once, but with Anny, Jer and Alby all commissioned as lieutenants due to their decorations, well, the 42nd didn't rate three lieutenants right now. The assault regiments, with their very high standards, were perpetually short of officers and priorities were set on the basis of need. The 61st was at the top of the list at the moment and even with the influence of Alby's father behind them, if they wanted to stay together it was the 61st or nothing. It had been an easy decision. The four of them had been inseparable at the Academy and while it was inevitable that in time they would be forced to go their separate ways, they wanted to postpone that as long as they could.

_What if Jer and I have to go our separate ways?_

She glanced at the young man sitting next to her. He was from the planet Komarr and he had been the first one at the Academy to befriend her during her improbable journey as Barrayar's first female officer-cadet. They had become friends and then—as soon as they graduated and the regulations allowed it—lovers. She wanted to stay with him always. Would they be allowed to?

"Whoops," said Alby, "I think that must be the place." He gestured toward the window. Anny looked again and saw that the forest had abruptly ended. A wide valley filled the space between two mountain ridges and Fort Vorolson filled the valley. Or nearly so; dozens of structures were scattered here and there. Large open areas, parade grounds or landing fields were also evident and paved roads crisscrossed the installation. Toward the southern end of the valley, adjacent to the fort, sat a medium-sized town, Malverton. Hundreds of people and many vehicles could be seen busily moving about as their shuttle passed low over the base.

The shuttle's turbines took on a higher pitch as the vehicle slowed, hovered, and finally set down on a concrete pad near what was clearly a hangar. A dozen other shuttles were parked nearby, many of them with their maintenance panels open and crewmen working on them.

"All right, we're here," said Anny unbuckling her safety harness and standing up. "Grab your gear and let's report in. The 61st Infantry is waiting for us!" She spoke lightly and smiled, but inside she was tense and worried. This was no temporary assignment, this was going to be her regiment. For years, possibly for her entire career. What would it be like? Would she be accepted? What if they didn't accept her? She remembered the wonderful sense of comradeship that had existed in the 42nd when they were there. It was the thing her innermost soul craved, what she'd been dreaming of when she began her crazy attempt to join up. But it was a thing that could only be given freely. There was no way to take it by force no matter how determined she was. If the Regiment wouldn't take her in, there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She glanced at Jer and Alby shouldering their duffles. _At least I've got them. No one can take that away._ But she knew that wasn't really true either… she'd already had Patric taken away….

The shuttle's hatch swung open and Anny headed for it. She was the senior officer aboard and tradition demanded that she exit first. Jer and Alby followed and the half-dozen enlisted personnel who had shared the ride with them held back to let the officers go first. Unlike when they arrived to join the 42nd when they'd been dumped out alone two kilometers from the headquarters building as a prank, there was a sergeant waiting for them with three privates and two utility vehicles parked next to the landing pad. The sergeant saluted her smartly. "Sir? Welcome to Fort Vorolson. The boys will take your gear to your quarters, I'll take you to headquarters."

Anny returned the salute. "Thank you, sergeant." She turned her duffle over to one of the privates and exchanged grins with Alby and Jer. Quite a change!

"Well, this is more like it," said Alby, handing off his own load. They got into the vehicle, Anny sitting next to the sergeant and Jer and Alby in the back. The vehicle started forward and the sergeant steered it onto a road that led away from the shuttle pads and toward a distant group of buildings set against the forest-covered ridge.

"The lads with your gear are just from the duty company, Lieutenant," said the sergeant. "We'll have to get you a proper set of dog-robbers once you're assigned to companies."

"A set of what?" demanded Jer.

"Batmen, sir. Personal orderlies."

"I know what a batman is. Never heard the other term."

"Just a bit of slang we have up here, sir."

"Beautiful day," commented Alby. "Nice and cool. It's sweltering back in Vorbarr Sultana. Does it stay like this all summer?"

"Mostly. We do get some serious thunderstorms at times. But wait until Winterfair, sir. Three meters of snow on the ground. You'll miss the heat."

"So what's the 61st like?" asked Jer. "A happy regiment, I hope?"

"Mostly, sir. A good group of lads. We do have a few… well, not my place to say, sir. But I'm sure you'll do fine." He cast a glance at Anny as if he was reevaluating his last statement. Suddenly he tromped on the brakes and the vehicle slowed sharply. Anny had to put her hand on the dash to keep from being thrown forward. "Bloody hell," growled the sergeant. "Sorry sir." Anny looked ahead and saw that an enormous vehicle was crossing the road in front of them. "Those maniacs _know_ they're not supposed t'do that!"

"Someone from the 283rd, I presume?" said Anny.

"Could hardly be anyone else!" exclaimed Alby. "Look at the size of that thing!"

"A Mark XXI heavy tank," whistled Jer. "Never seen one close up before." Anny stared at the behemoth. It looked to be about half the size of Vorkosigan House. One of the other units at Fort Vorolson was the 283rd Independent Tank Battalion. They had ten of the Mark XXIs. Each vehicle was so big and so powerful it rated as a platoon all by itself.

"Wow," said Alby. "I read that they've got the weapons and shielding of a light cruiser. How'd ya like to command one of those babies?"

"No thanks," said Jer. "Just a big target begging for something even bigger to make it a big hole in the ground. I'll stick with my battle armor, thank you very much."

"Right you are, sir," said the sergeant. "And they're not supposed to drive the damn things on the roads!"

"Well, technically, I don't think it's actually _on_ the road, sergeant," said Alby, pointing. Anny looked and sure enough the tank's mammoth caterpillar treads were not touching the ground. They floated a dozen centimeters above it. The tank was running on its anti-grav units. Indeed, a moment later the whole thing took to the air, turned north in a lazy arc and headed off, gathering speed every second.

"Show offs," muttered the sergeant, setting their own vehicle into motion again.

"It's getting so you can't tell the tanks from the space craft," said Jer.

"Pretty darn impressive, all the same," said Alby, his eyes still following the tank which was dwindling to a speck above the ridge. "Wouldn't mind seeing the whole battalion on the move all at once."

"Not likely to get the chance, sir," said the sergeant. "The great ruddy things cost so much to run and maintain all but three of 'em have been put into storage. Can't say I mind: a lot safer on the roads."

"Huh," said Alby sadly. Next to fireworks and other things that went _boom_, there were few things Barrayarans liked better than huge, clanking war machines.

Their own vehicle was now passing a large parade ground where several hundred men were engaged in calisthenics. Just beyond the parade grounds were the barracks and other buildings belonging to the 61st Infantry. Or so a large sign next to the road announced. The regimental crest was blazoned on the sign: a pair of crossed bayonets surrounded by fancy scrollwork. Written on a narrow banner below was the regimental motto: 'Give them the cold steel!' Anny glanced at the sergeant and saw that on his collar he had a brass '61' on one side and 'VG' on the other. The 42nd Infantry had worn similar insignia, but they were very particular about who was allowed to wear them. She wondered what she'd have to do to earn hers here.

"Wow, quite a change from Fort Vormeyer!" exclaimed Alby, pointing at the buildings. Anny looked and agreed. The fort on South Continent where the 42nd was stationed had all been squat, flat roofed concrete blocks. The buildings here were mostly made of the local timber. Wood plank siding or sometimes actual logs formed the walls. The roofs were steeply pitched and covered with shingles. In some ways it reminded her of her home village in the Dendarii Mountains, except none of the buildings in Red Rocks were nearly as large as the buildings here—and few were as well kept up. Everything looked freshly painted, indeed, she spotted a work crew on ladders by one of the buildings; lawns were closely mowed, shrubbery pruned, and neat paved walkway, lined with tall pines ran between the buildings.

Their vehicle turned into a circular driveway in front of one of the larger structures. A sign proclaimed it to be regimental headquarters. The other vehicle with their gear continued on its way, presumably to their quarters—wherever they might be.

"Here you are, gentlemen," said the sergeant, bringing the vehicle to a halt. "Just go right through the main doors. There's an information desk just inside. They'll get you to the OOD. Report to him."

"Thank you, sergeant," said Anny, climbing out. Jer and Alby joined her and they headed up the steps. A pair of sentries were flanking the doors and they came to attention as the trio passed inside. As promised, there was a desk inside the doors and an enlisted man gave them direction to the duty office. The interior of the building had lots of wood paneling and wood floors set off by brass hardware on the doors and stair railings. Paintings of famous battles and past colonels hung on the walls.

The Officer of the Day, a lieutenant, was on the comconsole when they entered the duty office so they waited patiently until he was done. "Yes?" he said when he finished.

Anny, as the senior, saluted and said: "Lieutenants Payne, Naddel and Vorsworth reporting for duty, sir."

The lieutenant casually returned her salute. "Your orders?" Anny and the others had them ready and handed over the documents which the OOD tossed into a basket on his desk. "Okay, pretty much everyone's out in the field at present and no one left any orders for you. So, you may as well head over to the BOQ and get yourselves settled. I'm sure the Adjutant is going to want to talk to you before you get your duty assignments. But in the meantime, welcome to the 61st. I'm Nate Gilchrist." He offered his hand and Anny took it and then the others did so as well.

"Glad to be here," said Anny.

Gilchrist snorted. "You won't be. The place is a madhouse."

Anny raised her eyebrows, but only replied: "Well, we better get over to the BOQ. I've downloaded a map of the base so we shouldn't have any trouble finding it."

"I can get a car for you if you want," offered Gilchrist.

"No thank you, sir. It's a beautiful day and we'd like a look at the base. Besides, we've been on a shuttle for two hours. Nice to stretch our legs."

"Suit yourself," said Gilchrist and turned back to his comconsole.

"Madhouse, eh?" said Alby as they went down the steps from the building. "Not sure I like the sound of that."

"Don't pay it any mind," replied Anny. "Commodore Koudelka once told me that every regiment and every ship claims to be the worst madhouse in the service. It's a point of pride."

"Gilchrist didn't seem surprised—or upset—to see you, Anny. I'm hoping that's a good sign," said Jer.

"We can hope," she said. "Or maybe the Colonel just issued the same sort of bloodthirsty orders as Admiral Vorkoff did on our apprentice cruise." During their cruise as cadets the officer commanding the task force had been so worried that Anny's presence as the only woman was going to reduce his command to chaos that he'd exiled her to an isolated ship and ordered his men to not even look at her. Things had worked out okay in the end, but she hoped she wasn't going to face the same treatment in the 61st. She wanted to become a part of the regiment and she couldn't do that if no one but Alby and Jer would have anything to do with her. Well, she would just have to see how things came out. They walked down to the main road and turned right.

The layout of Fort Vorolson had all of the big support structures: hangars, garages, warehouses, maintenance sheds, armories, power and water stations and so forth, on the west side of the valley. The open areas, the parade grounds and exercise fields were to the south which provided a buffer between the base and the town of Malverton. The east side, where they were now, held the barracks and offices of the troops stationed at the fort. In addition to the 61st and the 283rd there was the 139th Infantry, the 32nd Artillery Battalion and a half-dozen smaller units of engineers, transport troops, medical troops and the like. All put together they formed the 25th Brigade under the command of General Vorsilva.

The main road they were following bisected this part of the base. The 61st's structures were along one side and the 139th's on the other. While there was a bustle of activity on the 61st's side, the other side looked nearly deserted. "The 139th must be out on exercises or something," remarked Alby.

"No, I don't think so," said Jer. "They're a reserve regiment, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Still, they'll probably all come flooding in sometime this summer, I'd think."

Anny looked at the empty barracks across the road. The Barrayaran military boasted over two hundred regiments plus a horde of additional units. It was one of the biggest militaries in the wormhole nexus, probably second only to the Cetagandans. But it hadn't had a serious war to fight in a generation. Keeping a force like that fully mobilized all the time was more expensive than could be justified. So only about a third of the regiments were kept at full strength. The rest were either 'first line reserve' or 'second line reserve'; they would maintain a cadre of officers and NCOs who would keep things organized and train new recruits, but the rest of the men were reservists who would only show up for refresher training a few times a year. In an emergency the reservists could be quickly recalled to the colors, but emergencies were rare and the ones that occurred could usually be handled by the active regiments—like the 61st.

"There's the main mess hall," said Jer. "That smaller building must be the officers' club."

"Then that other building, just beyond, must be the BOQ," said Anny. Sure enough, the small sign next to the walkway leading up to the structure identified it as the Bachelor Officers' Quarters. It was a two-story wood building that didn't quite look like a barracks. They trooped in through the front door.

"How do we know which rooms we're in?' asked Alby.

"I don't suppose they've…" began Jer, looking at a directory board hanging from one wall. "I'll be darned, there we are. Efficient." He pointed and, indeed, their three names were there among the other occupants. "Anny, you're in 219, Alby, 212 and they've put me in 104."

"Jer, if you want to switch with me, I don't mind," said Alby with a grin. When they'd been visiting Alby's home after graduation he'd put them in adjoining rooms and they hadn't really made any secret of the fact that they were sharing a bed.

"I…" began Jer, blushing slightly.

"Let's just stay where they put us for now," said Anny. She looked at Jer and he nodded. They'd discussed their situation at length and they hoped to work out something where they could share quarters once they got settled. But for right now, they wanted to keep their relationship as invisible as they could manage. What they were doing wasn't illegal, but it was by its very nature unprecedented. They weren't sure how others would react.

"Okay, let's get unpacked then. Meet you back here in an hour or so?" They agreed to that and then Anny and Alby went upstairs. Her room was all the way at the end of the hall and her gear had been placed inside. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when she saw the room had its own attached bathroom. While she had forced herself to use communal facilities when necessary, it was still so much simpler if she didn't have to. From the size of the room she guessed that she had been put in a room meant for an officer of considerably higher rank than she held. Most senior officers were married and had their own quarters, or had the means to rent a house or apartment off the base, but occasionally mid-ranking officers came on temporary assignments and needed places to stay. She guessed that these quarters were meant for a major or even higher. Somehow it didn't surprise her a bit that they'd put her here. The same thing had happened on her apprentice cruise. Hell, the same thing had sort of happened during her first two years at the Academy—although in that case her quarters were a wreck for the first year. Apparently the powers-that-be still couldn't quite figure out how to treat her. She was really hoping that she and Jer could find an apartment in town that they could afford and avoid the whole issue.

But the quarters were quite nice. Bed, desk, chest of drawers, closet, carpets on the floor, curtains on the windows, paint on the walls, it was neat and comfortable. A number of thick, fluffy blankets in the closet lent credence to what their driver had told them about the winters up here. She unpacked her stuff and spent a while deciding the most logical places to put it. The thought struck her that when she got her batman—her _dog-robber_—that he'd probably decide to rearrange everything. She'd heard stories about those men: long service career soldiers who not only acted as servants but also 'took care' of the young officers they were assigned to. She wondered how the man assigned to her would feel when he discovered he was working for a woman? She grinned as she put her underwear in a drawer, was her man going to be able to deal with doing her laundry? Her grin faded when she remembered that she'd have to pay the man a stipend out of her already meager salary. If she and Jer managed to figure out a way to share quarters would they end up with two dog-robbers or just one? _So many things I still don't know…_

She finished up and sat on the bed. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a credit chit. It was the one that Lord Mark had given to her as a reward for her actions on the apprentice cruise. It held an absurdly large sum of money—more than her and Jer's combined salary for the next ten years would be worth. It would make their lives a whole lot easier—but she couldn't keep it. She'd checked and it was very definitely against regulations for an officer to accept money from a civilian. The rule went back over a century to when the emperor was trying to solidify his authority over the district counts. You couldn't have nobles rewarding army officers. No, she'd have to get rid of this. She'd give it to Lord Vorkosigan. She was quite certain he'd be able to make it vanish with no questions asked.

She was just checking the time when someone rapped on the frame of the door, which she'd left open. She assumed it would be Jer or Alby, but she was surprised to see that it was someone else. A dark-haired man of medium height with a pleasant smile and lieutenant's tabs on his collar leaned in and said: "Hello. You'd be Lieutenant Payne, I'm guessing—but you could hardly be anyone else, could you? Sven, Sven Estaban, B Company. Welcome to Fort Vorolson." He stepped inside and offered his hand. Anny took it and they shook firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Sven. And thanks for the welcome. You knew we were coming, I take it?"

"Oh yes, the rumor-mill was working at full power! It's always an event when we get a batch of new officers, but when we heard that _you_ were coming—well!" He shrugged.

"It did seem like no one was particularly surprised to see me," said Anny. "Rather pleasant, actually."

"I bet you've gotten your share of double-takes."

"More than my share. I'm hoping that given time I'll be accepted as an officer and people will forget that I'm a woman."

"That might be asking a bit much!" chuckled Estaban. "Still, I think you'll find that the 61st is willing to give you a chance. The stories about what you pulled off with the 42nd are damned impressive…"

"And probably totally exaggerated," interrupted Anny.

"Even allowing for that, you've got more real combat experience than most of the officers here, Anny. You don't mind if I call you Anny, do you?"

"Since you outrank me you can call me anything you like, sir," Anny smiled to let him know she was kidding. She was assuming that Estaban had seniority over her—unless he'd been promoted to lieutenant in the last two weeks.

He laughed. "First names between officers of equal rank when off duty is the rule here. Or for officers junior to you, of course. The regiment is pretty relaxed about stuff like that you'll find."

"Good to know. Thanks."

"So have you had a chance to look around?"

"Just the drive between the landing field and HQ and the walk from there to here."

"Can I give you a tour?"

"I'd appreciate that. Let's find the others."

Estaban's pleasant expression faded a bit. "Others? Oh, right, you didn't come alone."

"Nope, there are three of us. Come on, Alby's down the hall." She led Estaban out of the room and then shut the door and after a moment's hesitation locked it with the key she'd found on the chest of drawers. Alby popped out of his room when he heard them coming and introductions were made. Anny took a look into his room and confirmed her suspicions: it was significantly smaller than hers, although still comfortable. Then they headed down the stairs and collected Jer. Estaban seemed a little taken back at the growing size of the group he was now giving a tour, but he remained cordial enough.

"You can eat at the mess hall if you want," he said as they walked past the building. "and a lot of the junior officer will do that for breakfast and lunch to save money. Food's not bad and they have a separate line and seating section for officers. The officers' mess is a lot nicer, though, and most everyone eats dinner there. There's a membership fee, of course and a couple of different meal plans. They'll let new arrivals eat there free for a week or so until they get settled in, so don't worry about today. It's a nice place, really. They have some good parties and on holidays the wives decorate. Sometimes girls from the town will be invited." He gave Anny an odd glance.

"So what's the regiment like?" asked Jer. "How's the Colonel?"

"Vortaglia? Well, to be honest, we hardly ever see him. He's almost eighty and he spends most of his time at his home down on the south coast. Lieutenant Colonel Fetherbay runs things day to day. He's not bad but you can sort of tell he's not happy with the situation." Estaban stopped talking and glanced at each of them, especially Alby, perhaps wondering if he'd said too much.

"The military needs some sort of mandatory retirement policy," said Alby. "My own da stayed on way past his prime. I read that Vortaglia inherited command when the previous colonel got vaporized at Escobar. That was forty years ago! You'd think if he was any good he would have made general a long time ago."

An awkward silence followed. It was a touchy subject: too many superannuated officers occupying too many important positions. Whether for the prestige, the salary, or just love of the military, many officers stayed on active duty until they keeled over dead or were medically retired when it became impossible for them to do their job. A lot of younger, lower-ranking officers were annoyed that they couldn't advance because the upper slots were filled with such antiques.

"Does the regiment get a lot of shipboard assignments?" asked Anny to change the subject. It was something close to her heart. She really wanted to get out there among the stars-again.

"About average, I guess," replied Estaban. "3rd Battalion's with the fleet right now. They're due back in about three months. If the standard rotation holds then it's our turn next. 1st Battalion, I mean. Probably next year some time. Looking forward to that! Have you guys got your assignments yet?"

"No, the OOD said that all the other headquarters officers were out somewhere."

Estaban nodded. "2nd Battalion's doing an exercise with the 283rd today. I guess the HQ people are observing. They ought to back before dinner, though."

The tour continued through the pleasant afternoon weather and Estaban pointed out all of the areas of interest on the east side of the base. There was one building under construction, however, that he was unable to provide any information on. "They've been very hush-hush about it for some reason," he said as they walked past. A while later he checked the time. "We better head back. Overall, things are fairly relaxed here, but they do insist on observing all the forms. Dress parade is at 1700 for the regiment."

"Undress greens okay?" asked Anny.

"Nope, dress greens," replied Estaban. "Sword, medals, the works. Of course since you haven't been assigned, I suppose you could skip it…"

"We're still part of the regiment. We'll attend and stand with the staff."

"Suit yourselves. But it is always a good show. We've got a hell of a band."

They reached the BOQ at 1630 and went to their rooms to get ready. Fortunately, the only real differences between dress and undress greens were the stiff visor-caps instead of the soft fatigue caps, the medals instead of ribbons, white gloves, and their swords. Anny had a second tunic with the medals already on it and she quickly changed into that and then buckled on the sword belt and attached her sword to it. The dress cap with its gold imperial eagle on the front was in its box. She buffed a tiny smudge off the visor and set it on her head and then pulled on the gloves. This was the first time she'd actually had a reason to wear dress greens and she paused for a moment to admire herself in the mirror on the back of her door. She had to admit that she did like uniforms and the Barrayarans had some of the snazziest around.

Estaban had already gone to join his company so Anny collected Jer and Alby and headed out to the parade ground. With 2nd and 3rd battalions away, there were just the four companies of 1st battalion assembling on the edge of the parade ground. Anny was interested to see a sizable crowd of civilian spectators lining the edge of the field. Families of the men, she supposed or just interested folks from the town. She spotted the battalion adjutant with the colors talking to the principal musician by the band and headed over to him. He looked at them in surprise as they came up and saluted. "Sir? We just reported to the regiment today and we haven't been assigned anywhere," said Anny. "Permission to stand with the staff?"

The man looked sharply at her but then shrugged. "Sure, welcome aboard. The staff's lining up over there. We're starting in about three minutes." Anny thanked him and headed over to where several officers and senior NCOs were waiting. They stared with curiosity at the newcomers, but there wasn't even time for introductions before a bugle called them to attention and everyone had to take their places.

The four companies were lined up in march columns on the edge of the parade ground. About a hundred meters in front of them, the adjutant had established the color line. He, carrying the battalion's flag, had posted himself in the exact center. On either side of him, a few paces away, were the two general guides, sergeants carrying small flags called guidons. A hundred meters to one side was the band, posted on the right of the line (although from Anny's perspective it was to her left). When the battalion commander arrived, he would take his position exactly opposite where the adjutant was standing and about thirty meters away. Anny and Jer and Alby and the other staff were to the right and slightly to the rear of that spot, the staff officers closest to the commander's spot, then Anny, Jer and Alby and then the NCOs. She drew her sword and rested her hand on her right hip, the blade of the sword lightly touching her shoulder. It was all prescribed in the regulations.

Everyone was in position and after about a minute a utility vehicle drove up to the edge of the parade ground and two men got out, an officer and an NCO. Anny nodded her head slightly in satisfaction. She'd heard stories about commanders who would keep their men waiting in ranks for a half hour or more before arriving. It was an insult to the men who were here to pay honor to their commander.

For that was what dress parade was all about: the command paying tribute to their commander. It was a ceremonial formation that went back hundreds of years in Barrayaran history and, from what Anny learned in her history classes at the Academy, had been imported almost without change from Old Earth where it had originated over a thousand years ago. That the commander had arrived so promptly spoke well of the 61st.

As the officer got closer Anny was surprised to see that he was only a captain. But then she remembered what Sven Estaban had told them: Colonel Vortaglia was rarely here and the lieutenant colonel, who would normally command the 1st Battalion, was in command of the whole regiment. Which meant that someone else had to command 1st Battalion, probably the senior captain.

The captain was walking to his post when he noticed the extra officers in the staff row. He frowned and made a detour to speak to the adjutant. Anny couldn't hear what was said, but she imagined the captain was wanting to know who the strangers were. After a moment he nodded and walked to his spot. The NCO who had been with him was the battalion sergeant major and he went to his own place, down near the left end of where the battalion line would form.

Everything was ready. The adjutant looked toward the band and nodded his head. A moment later a bugle rang out playing _To the Colors_. This was one of Anny's favorite bugle calls and it sent a chill down her spine and set her close-cropped brown hair on end, her scalp tingling. Immediately the second company began to move, followed a few moments later by the others. They converged on the adjutant and went from column into line and then halted. The color sergeant stepped forward and took the flag from the adjutant and the companies' captains had the men dress their ranks on the colors.

The band, which had struck up a lively march while the troops were moving, finished up and silence ensued. The adjutant looked to his right and then to his left, seeing that all was in order. Then he stepped back and commanded: "Battalion, Shoulder-Arms! Guides—Post!" The men brought their rifles down to their right sides and all the officers, sergeants, and guides went to their spots, the two general guides taking positions on the extreme ends of the line. The captain commanding the battalion had not moved a muscle, for this was the oddity in dress parade: the commander was just a spectator, the adjutant ran the show.

The adjutant turned to his left and marched down to the right end of the line and faced about, looking back along the line. He put the battalion at parade rest. All the officers rested the points of their swords on the top of their left boots and folded their hands across the hilts.

Then the adjutant took a breath and ordered: "Music! Beat-off!" The principal musician raised his baton and there was a roll of the drums and a trill of the fifes as they did the 'three cheers'. Then they broke into another tune and marched forward and wheeled to their left and moved across the front of the battalion. Estaban was right: they were very good and Anny's hair was soon standing up again. _Damn_, she loved this! She knew that all this ceremonial stuff served no real purpose and the close-order drill was totally obsolete on a modern battlefield, but she still loved it. She never felt more like a soldier than during these moments. Just a few weeks ago she'd turned down a very tempting offer by ImpSec to serve on the Emperor's—_the Emperor's!—_security detail. There had been a lot of reasons for her decision, but this was an important one: in ImpSec she wouldn't get to do things like this anymore.

The band reached the far end of the line and countermarched and came back the way it had come, playing another tune. They came opposite their original position, wheeled back into line, countermarched again, and finished up with another 'three cheers'. Anny let out her breath.

The adjutant had the battalion open ranks and then marched across the front of the battalion until he was exactly opposite the commander and then turned and came to a spot about ten paces from him. He turned around to face the battalion and commanded: "Battalion! Present-Arms!" With a slap and a crack, hundreds of rifles were brought forward in front of the men. All the officers raised their swords so the hilts were opposite their right eyes and then they were slowly lowered so that the points were near the ground, pointing slightly to the right. The adjutant spun around again and saluted the commander. "Sir, the parade is formed."

The captain drew his own sword and commanded: "Battalion! Shoulder-arms!" He then quickly ran them through the manual of arms, shifting the rifles from one position to another, ending up with the men back at order arms with the rifle butts on the ground. He then returned his sword to its scabbard and became a statue again.

This was the adjutant's cue. He faced the battalion and ordered: "First sergeants, to the front and center-march!" The four top sergeants stepped out from the ranks, marched to the center and reported the status of their companies. After sending the sergeants back to their posts the adjutant turned and saluted the commander. "All present or accounted for, sir."

"Very good," said the captain returning the salute. "No additional orders at this time, lieutenant."

"Yes sir." The adjutant turned to face the battalion. "Attention to orders! The parade is dis-missed!"

All the officers returned their swords to their scabbards. The adjutant marched forward until he was in line with all the company officers and then turned to face the commander. All the other officers faced in toward the adjutant and marched forward to close on him. The staff officers, Anny, and all the rest went and attached themselves to the end of the line. When all were there the adjutant commanded: "Officers-front! Forward-march!" Everyone turned to face the commander and then marched forward in a line. When they neared the commander, the adjutant halted them and commanded: "Officers, hand-salute!" Everyone saluted and the captain returned it. He then relaxed and smiled.

"Nicely done everyone. Excellent job. As you might have noticed, we have a few newbies with us today," he nodded in Anny's direction and heads turned. "But we'll save introductions until dinner. You can dismiss the men and I'll see you shortly in the mess." They all saluted again and then relaxed. The four company commanders gave small waves of their hands to their first sergeants who immediately marched the companies back to the barracks. The staff NCOs quickly disappeared, but the officers became a rather unmilitary gaggle strolling in the direction of the officer's mess. A few of the civilian women, wives or girlfriends Anny supposed, intercepted some of them and strolled along. Sven Estaban came over and joined Anny and her friends. A number of other officers gathered around them as well.

"So," said Estaban, "what did you think? Are we up to Academy standards?"

"It was wonderful," said Anny and she meant it.

"Very sharp," said Jer.

"As good as I've seen," added Alby.

"Uh…" said Anny, lowering her voice, "who's the captain in command?" She'd memorized the names and faces of the senior officers, but hadn't gotten down to the captains.

"Oh," laughed Estaban. "That's Captain Vorglanov. Fetherbay has brevetted him a major, but it's strictly unofficial, no rank, no pay, not even the tabs. Doesn't seem to bother him. He's all right."

"So, Sven, you appear to know our guests already?" asked one of the other officers.

"Met them at the BOQ this afternoon. Just a lucky encounter."

"Care to tell us their names or is that a secret?" said another.

Estaban seemed to enjoy being the center of attention and he smiled. "Well, Vorglanov did say introductions could wait, but I guess there's no real harm. These are Lieutenants Payne, Vorsworth and Naddel, just joined the regiment today." A chorus of welcomes and names flowed back at them, far too many names to remember, but Anny smiled and nodded her head anyway.

As they walked, the conversation died away when a low rumble caught their attention. Every head turned toward the ridge to the east and a few moments later the rumble grew to a roar as a swarm of dark specks appeared. The specks grew quickly and Anny could see that there were several dozen assault shuttles headed their way. The noise penetrated to her bones as they screamed overhead.

"Second battalion, back from their exercise!" shouted Estaban in her ear.

The noise faded as the shuttles came in to land across the valley from them. "Guess the Old Man will be at dinner after all," commented one of the officers. The conversation started up again as the group strolled down the road toward the Officers' Mess. Various questions were tossed Anny's way, but they were all in the nature of small talk and she was able to field them and toss them back with no problem. As they neared the main mess hall, they saw that the troops had already shed their dress uniforms and were streaming into the building wearing fatigues. A bugle sounded 'dinner call'. Anny raised an eyebrow: a lot of units had done away with most of the old bugle calls for the day's activities, only retaining a few. It seemed like the 61st was clinging to the old ways and Anny found that she approved.

They reached the Regimental Officers' Mess building and went up a short flight of steps and through the doors. A smile came to Anny's face. When they'd been with the 42nd, the regimental officers had created a facsimile of a traditional mess inside a modern steel and concrete building. Here, the 61st had the real thing. From the outside the building had looked like many of the others: timber construction and perhaps three stories high. Inside, it was just one floor with high walls and a towering ceiling which was really the underside of the steeply pitched roof, supported by exposed beams and curving trusses. Tall windows lined two of the walls, some of them with stained glass decorations. And everywhere there was wood. Rich, dark, polished wood. Parquet floors, paneling on the walls and elaborate trim everywhere. Brass chandeliers hung down from the ceiling on long chains and wall sconces held more lights. Just as with the 42nd, old flags and banners hung in rows. Beautiful. Her heart seemed to swell.

There were shelves and rows of wood pegs near the door. Hats and gloves went on the shelves and swords and sword belts were hung on the pegs. White-tunicked stewards were bustling about, setting tables and offering to bring drinks from the bar. Unlike the farewell dinner she'd attended with the 42nd, tonight was just an ordinary night and the officers found tables or stood around as they pleased. Anny got a beer from the bar, as did Jer and Alby. She was getting hungry, but she decided to mingle for a bit longer. She truly wanted to become friends and comrades with these people. She would be here, working with them, for years to come. First impressions were important. She chatted with anyone who came near and most seemed friendly enough. A few scowled and kept their distance and she got some very odd looks from some of the women, but overall it went well.

Captain Vorglanov came by and they talked for a bit. "Fetherbay and the lot from 2nd Battalion will be here shortly, so we'll save the formal introductions for then," he said. "Have you got your assignments yet?"

"Not yet, sir. We're all a bit curious."

"No doubt! No doubt! But no one's told me anything, either. I've got an open slot or two in 1st battalion, but we'll just have to wait and see where they put you, eh?" There was a commotion near the door and some raised voices and heads turned. "Ah, there they are. Come on, I'll introduce you to Fetherbay. Don't worry, he growls, but rarely bites." He led the trio over toward the door where a tall man wearing black fatigues with lieutenant-colonel's tabs was slowly making his way through a small crowd of people. He had a thin face with prominent cheekbones and a long boney nose. His brown hair was close-cropped with a touch of silver at the temples and a small mustache. His eyes were brown, too, and they were twinkling in amusement as he laughed at some joke that had been made.

"Welcome back, Colonel," said Vorglanov when he got close. "Everything went well, I hope?"

"Well enough," replied Fetherbay. "We need to work with the 283rd more often, the coordination still isn't what it ought to be. But who have you got there?" He looked past Vorglanov toward Anny. "Our new lambs?"

"Yes sir, arrived this afternoon. They haven't been formally introduced to the regiment yet. Thought we'd wait until you and the others got back."

"Vorsworth, Naddel and Payne," Fetherbay said nodding toward them. "I was informed you'd be coming. Not much doubt about who's who!" He proceeded to shake hands with all of them. "Vorsworth, I served under your father about a dozen years ago. How is he these days?"

"Well enough, sir, although he's having trouble adjusting to retirement," replied Alby. Anny looked at her friend's face. The truth was that Alby's father, after sixty years in the military, was wasting away. He'd looked ghastly when Anny had seen him at Vorsworth House. She doubted he'd last the year.

But Fetherbay, who hadn't seen him, chuckled. "Yes, retirement doesn't agree with a lot of people!" This produced a number of laughs from the surrounding officers. Had that been some oblique reference to Colonel Vortaglia? "But let's get these introductions over so we can eat," continued Fetherbay. He looked to his adjutant, a captain, who stepped up on to a chair and said in a loud voice:

"Gentlemen! Ladies! If I can have you attention!" He got it immediately and he gestured to Fetherbay.

"Evening everyone," said Fetherbay. "As most of you know by now we've got three new officers joining the regiment today. And apparently the 61st must have done something good because this year they've sent us lieutenants rather than ensigns! Actual proof that it is still possible to be promoted, gentlemen!" This produced a laugh from the officers. Anny and Jer and Alby stood there, feeling a bit awkward. Academy cadets were normally commissioned as ensigns when they graduated. But the three of them had all managed to earn medals while at the Academy and an old rule mandated that they be commissioned lieutenants instead. It didn't happen often and Anny wasn't certain how others might feel about that. She caught sight of at least a half-dozen ensigns in the crowd; they would all have been with the regiment for a year or more and yet she outranked them. Would they resent it?

"So, let me present our new comrades," continued Fetherbay. "Lieutenant Payne, Lieutenant Naddel and Lieutenant Vorsworth. Welcome to the 61st!" Applause and a few restrained cheers erupted from the assembly that went on for half a minute and then petered out. Anny wasn't sure if they were supposed to respond in any way, but as the applause died people began to turn away. Apparently not. Good.

"Gentlemen," said Fetherbay. He was clearly addressing the three of them. "I'm sure you are all eager to know what your assignments will be. Why don't we discuss it over dinner?" He gestured toward one of the larger tables.

Anny blinked in surprise. "Certainly, sir," she managed to blurt out.

Fetherbay collected his adjutant, a captain named Vorjannis, along with Captain Vorglanov and the commander of 2nd Battalion, Major Waski and they all sat down at a round table. Stewards converged on them from all directions and shortly they had drinks and placed orders for their food.

"So, that was quite a little fracas you folks had with the 42nd," said Fetherbay once they were all settled. "It's the most exciting thing that's happened since the 26th put down that triple hijacking out near Botman's Planet, what? Three years ago?"

"Four, sir," said Vorjannis.

"Yes, that's right. But the last time the 61st heard shots fired in anger was twelve years ago and there aren't but a handful of men still with the colors who were there. You three are going to be celebrities for a while, I'm afraid." He swept his gaze over the three of them, but they were spared having to think up some reply by the stewards arriving with their food. Anny had ordered a steak and it was thick and juicy.

"But, as for your assignments," said Fetherbay after a few minutes of uninterrupted chewing. "Lieutenant Vorsworth, I saw in your files that you have a sub-specialty in computers and electronic warfare, correct?"

"Yes sir," said Alby. "It's always been sort of a hobby of mine."

"Well, as it happens, we have need of your talents. We're building a new facility up at the north end of the base." Anny exchanged glances with Jer and Alby; clearly this was the mysterious building Estaban had showed them earlier. "It seems that the bean-counters in Vorbarr Sultana think we're spending too much money keeping the regiment trained. Their solution is to install a simulator facility like they use at the Academy."

Captain Vorjannis snorted loudly. "I've seen what those facilities cost! It'll take fifty years for this one to pay for itself. Typical bureaucratic stupidity!"

"No doubt," said Fetherbay. "I've never had the opportunity to try one of the simulators, myself, but as a veteran of both simulations and real combat, how would you rate them, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, well, they are pretty much indistinguishable from the real thing, sir," said Alby.

"Really?" Fetherbay looked skeptical.

"Yes, sir. When the man next to you gets sliced in two by a plasma arc, the blood and entrails look and smell the same in the simulator as they do in real life."

Everyone at the table was staring at Alby. Including Anny and Jer. Alby had told and re-told the story of his part of the battle on the planet Dounby during their training cruise a dozen times, but he'd never said anything about that! Fetherbay looked taken back. "Uh… well, it's good to know we'll be getting something useful! But in any case, they have a whole crew of technical boffins up there installing these things, but as far I know not a one of them has any combat experience. I'm going to want you to get involved with setting up the facility and getting it operational. If I'm going to be forced to rely on simulations, I want to be sure they are doing the job and not filling the men's heads with computer-generated nonsense! Think you can do that for me, Vorsworth?"

"Yes, sir. It would be my pleasure," said Alby with a smile. Anny was certain the smile was genuine. This would be right up Alby's alley. He loved that sort of stuff and there was no denying he was good with simulator programming! She suppressed a smile of her own at the thought of the prank he had played on a rival company during their second year at the Academy.

"Good! You'll be attached to my headquarters company during the assignment. Later on we can find something else for you to do. Lieutenant Naddel." He looked at Jer.

"Sir?"

"You've had extra training in heavy weapons, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Then I believe there's a post for you in 2nd Battalion, right, Anthony?" He looked at Major Waski.

"Yes sir," replied Waski. "I can find a place for him in H Company; we've been short an officer for the anti-tank platoon since you 'borrowed' Janowittz and never gave him back."

"Stop bitching, Anthony," said Fetherbay with a smile. "Everyone's short-handed and here I've given you a bright, shiny, new lieutenant. Don't break him, God knows when we'll get any more."

"Yes sir. And thanks. Naddel, report to Captain Adronov in the morning."

"Yes sir," said Jer. He glanced at Anny and smiled, but she didn't return it when she saw that Fetherbay was looking at her now.

"So, Lieutenant Payne, what should I do with you?"

"Sir?" Anny was suddenly tense. "I… I was hoping for an assignment with an infantry company."

"Were you now? I see that you specialized in infantry tactics during your last year at the Academy. You like commanding infantry?"

"Yes sir. I commanded my cadet company for three years and, well, you know what I did with the 42nd."

"Indeed. Your record is very impressive, but that creates certain… problems."

"Sir?" Anny didn't like where this seemed to be going—wherever that was.

"Well, completely leaving aside the fact that you're the only woman in the entire Imperial forces, you also have more combat experience and hold a higher decoration than any officer in the entire regiment, except for our beloved Colonel, of course. And yet at the same time, despite all of that, you are also a wet-behind-the-ears shavetail, fresh out of the Academy. Plunking you down in the midst of a veteran infantry company might cause… friction."

"Sir, I'm sure that I can fit in anywhere you…"

"It has been _suggested_," said Fetherbay, putting strange emphasis on the last word, "that I find some spot for you on the regimental staff. Operations or Planning, Training, perhaps. Does any of that appeal to you, Lieutenant?"

Anny swallowed nervously. Damn , she hadn't expected a grilling like this! She'd just expected to be assigned somewhere. What she said now might affect her entire future career! She glanced around at the others at the table and every eye was on her. "Sir… I'd be honored to serve the regiment in any capacity you think fit." She forced the words out of her mouth, but they weren't really true. She'd already let herself be talked out of applying for the naval track back at the Academy. She didn't _want_ a staff job, dammit! But it wasn't up to her…

"I read in your file that after you were wounded on Dounby, you spent the rest of your cruise working on the battalion staff. Did you enjoy that?"

After Dounby she'd been under virtual house arrest on the flagship. Did Fetherbay know that? "It… it was interesting work, sir. But I would have preferred to return to my troops."

"But they didn't let you."

"No sir."

"Bastards." The side of Fetherbay's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. Anny was so startled she couldn't think of any reply. Fetherbay took a sip from his wine and put the glass back on the table. "I _could_ find a spot for you on the staff, but… Vorglanov here has been wheedling me for one of you folks from the moment we learned you were coming. Honestly, Alex, you've been like a kid asking to open his Winter Fair gifts early!" He smiled at the 1st Battalion commander.

"Sorry, sir," said Vorglanov, not smiling in return. "But Sergeant Milroy has been commanding 3rd platoon of C Company ever since you brevetted me to take the battalion and Vorstang had to take the company—almost two years, sir. He deserves to go to OCS—you know that, sir—and I just didn't have anyone else to replace him—until now."

"So you'd like to have Lieutenant Payne in your battalion?"

"Yes sir. Well, her or either of the other two, sir, I'm not particular."

"The hell you're not," snorted Fetherbay. "But in any case… very well, she's all yours, Alex. God help you."

"Thank you, sir," said Vorglanov. He turned his gaze on Anny. "Report to Lieutenant Vorstang, C Company, in the morning."

"Yes sir!" said Anny, her face breaking into a smile. Her company back at the Academy had been C Company! A good omen?

The stewards cleared the table of the dinner dishes and set out coffee for everyone. The wine glasses were still there, of course, and they were never allowed to become empty. Fetherbay took another drink from his. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "So, gentlemen, are you all satisfied? Happy with your assignments? Glad you're part of the 61st?"

"Yes sir," said Anny, Jer and Alby in unison.

"Good, good. But now it's time for you to repay our hospitality."

"Sir?" said Anny.

"Well, you see that here, up in the far north, we're pretty isolated. The same ugly faces day after day, year after year. It gets pretty boring. And even when a new face arrives they usually can't provide much entertainment. But you! Well! I'm sure you can provide quite a bit of entertainment!"

A chill went through Anny. What did he mean? Was he talking to all three of them or just her? Surely not just her! Not here in the regimental officers' mess! She glanced at Jer and Alby, but they both seemed as confused—and as apprehensive—as her.

"I… I'm not sure I understand, sir."

Fetherbay smiled. "It's simple enough, Lieutenant: I want a story! I want an eyewitness account of the Battle of Dounby!"

[Scene Break]

The last light of the long summer day had vanished by the time they wove their way back to the BOQ and the stars were shining brightly through the trees. Anny had drunk far more than she should have, although not enough to get completely blasted. Jer and Alby staggered along next to her and somehow they had picked up Sven Estaban again.

"I think I like the 61st!" exclaimed Alby. It was about the tenth time he'd said that since they left the mess, but she had to agree with him. It had been a very pleasant evening. She and Alby had managed to give a reasonably coherent—and she hoped entertaining—account of the 'battle' that had been fought on the planet Dounby during their training cruise. She'd been able to skip over her insubordination, the real reason behind the whole mess, and the bloodier moments during the fighting without ruining the story. She'd made sure that Zac Karal's sacrifice to save her got its full due. Colonel Fetherbay and the others had seemed very appreciative.

"It's a good outfit," said Estaban.

They stumbled into the building. Alby started up the steps, but Anny hung back with Jer. Estaban took a step up and then looked back at her with a confused and disappointed expression on his face. Alby stopped, looked back and grinned. He came back down and took Estaban by the arm. "Come on, Sven, give them some room."

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" said Estaban, frowning.

"Yeah, it's like that. Now come on."

"Damn. Knew I couldn't be that lucky. Oh well…" He turned and followed Alby up the steps.

"So much for keeping it secret," said Anny, smiling at Jer.

"Probably just as well," said Jer, gently pulling her against him. "If everyone thought you were unattached, you'd have 'em lined up outside your door!"

"So instead I'm lined up outside your door."

"Wanna come in for a while?"

She'd really like that, but she shook her head. "Long day. Big day tomorrow. And I'm ready to pass out. And if I did, then—heavens!—you might take advantage of me!" They both laughed and then she leaned closer and kissed him. "See you in th' mornin', Luv."

He pulled her even closer and kissed her back. "Right. Love you."

They parted and she made her way up to her room. Alby still had his door open and she was amused that he stuck his head out until she went into her own room and shut the door behind her. After a moment she locked it.

She made sure her alarm was set and then peeled off her clothes except for her underwear, turned off the lights and crawled into the bed.

_Yeah, I think I like the 61__st__!_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**J**er Naddel groaned as the alarm woke him. The hours of sleep had been far too meager and the wine list at dinner the previous evening far too generous. A nasty spike of pain stabbed through his head as he pushed himself upright. He groaned again as he switched on the light and rummaged through his footlocker to find some headache pills. The first faint light of dawn was creeping in the window. Barrayar's axial tilt made for short nights this far north during the summer months. Too damn short, even allowing for Barrayar's much longer day than Komarr's.

He found the pills, swallowed one, and then staggered into the bathroom. He shared a bathroom with whoever was in the room next door, but he didn't know who that was. The other door was closed. He wondered if he could convince the other occupant to switch rooms with Anny. Now _that_ would be convenient! He used the toilet, smeared depilatory cream on his face, and entered the shower. As he washed, he mused on how efficient it would be for the two of them to shower together…

He still could hardly believe they were lovers. He'd fallen _in_ love with Anny back in their second year at the Academy. Well, maybe earlier than that… But while they'd been close friends and clearly felt some affection for each other, she—and he—had never allowed more than that to show. It was against the regulations to fall in love and Anny was under such a microscope as the first woman to ever attend the Barrayaran Imperial Service Academy that she didn't dare even appear to be breaking the rules. But they had broken the rules and they had fallen in love and they had admitted it to each other in their senior year. They hadn't actually done anything except for a few brief hugs and kisses until the night of graduation. Since then… well, since then things had been amazing. Anny was so utterly by-the-book when she was on duty, so completely under control that it had come as a surprise at just how _out_ of control she became in bed. Some sort of emotional safety valve perhaps? Whatever. It didn't matter. Anny was the strongest, the bravest person Jer had ever met. The things she'd had to overcome to make it through the Academy would have crushed most people—they would have crushed him! If he could provide the emotional support she needed, he was more than willing to do that. Willing and ready. _Maybe tonight…_

"I say, old man, are you going to hog the shower all morning?"

Jer jumped at the sudden voice at his elbow, just on the other side of the shower curtain. He hastily shut off the water and stuck his head around the curtain. A man was standing there wearing nothing but striped pajama bottoms. "Naddel, is it?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah…"

"Vorquinz, here, A Company. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Saw you at dinner last night, of course, but didn't get a chance to say hello. By the by, as senior I get first crack at the shower in the morning. 0530 on the dot. Try to remember, will you?" He turned away and went over to the sink. Jer grabbed a towel and began drying himself.

"Sorry about that; I didn't know."

"I'll let it pass this time."

Jer wasn't sure if the man was joking, decided he wasn't. "Actually I normally shower before I go to bed anyway," he said.

"That would work if you don't leave the place a mess."

"I'll try not to."

"Good man." Vorquinz finished putting on his depilatory cream—except on his large mustache—dropped his pajamas and stepped into the shower. "I don't suppose you have a man of your own yet. Hendly, there has coffee if you want a cup." The water turned on and the conversation ended. Jer looked through the door into Vorquinz's room and saw an enlisted man in there puttering around. A pot of coffee sat on a tray. His stomach was still a little queasy from the previous night and Jer decided he could wait until breakfast.

Jer finished drying himself and (neatly) hung up his towel. He went back into his own room and dressed quickly in a set of black fatigues. The officers he'd seen during the tour yesterday had been wearing blacks and he hoped that would be the proper uniform when he joined his company. The thought of that sent a jolt of excitement and anxiety through him. What would H Company be like? As a weapons company, it would be more technically oriented than a standard 'rifle' company. The commander wasn't Vor. What was he like? Too many unknowns…

He had just finished dressing when reveille sounded on the base. He'd deliberately gotten up early to avoid having to rush. He clicked his computer pad into the holder on his belt, grabbed his cap and stepped out into the hallway. Anny, Alby—and Estaban—were just coming down the steps.

"Morning!" said all four, more or less simultaneously. They went out the doors and saw swarms of troopers spilling out of their barracks and falling into formation for morning roll call. The sun was just peeping over the eastern ridge. Jer was glad that the NCOs handled roll calls. He remembered when it was _his_ task as the first sergeant for C Company.

"What do you do when there's three meters of snow on the ground in the winter?" asked Alby, his question directed at Estaban.

"Well, as you can imagine, we've got some first rate snow removal equipment here—plus a few thousand pairs of arms with strong backs attached to them. But if the conditions are really severe, they just do it in the barracks."

"That's the C Company barracks over there, isn't it?" asked Anny, pointing at one of the buildings.

"Yup. Right next to B Company. We'll be neighbors." He smiled at Anny. She didn't reply and they headed for the main mess hall. Despite the separate entrance for officers, they wanted to beat the mad rush that would doubtlessly ensue once the men were dismissed from roll call.

A few other officers had arrived ahead of them, but they were still among the first. It was a standard mess hall arrangement and they grabbed trays and loaded them with food and coffee and then found a table. "So, your first day with the regiment," said Estaban. "Excited?"

"Yeah," said Alby. Jer and Anny nodded. "Hard to believe that this is the real thing after four years preparing for it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Estaban. "I felt the same way when I got here, God, it's four years now. But it's a good group of people. I'm sure you'll do fine." They ate in silence for a bit and then Estaban looked at Anny and then at Jer. "So… uh… how did the two of you … _manage_ at the Academy. Must have been a tad awkward, wasn't it?"

"More than awkward," said Jer. "Damn near impossible."

"And against regulation, Mister Estaban," said Anny frostily. "Therefore, in answer to your question: we _didn't_ manage."

Estaban frowned and then his eyebrows shot up and he smiled. "Ah! So this is something recent, is it? Perhaps there's hope for me yet!"

"You don't give up, do you?" said Alby, laughing. "But you might as well, Sven! You'd have better luck getting a date with the Empress than trying to pry these two apart!"

"Really." He didn't look convinced.

"Yeah, really," said Jer.

"Really, really," added Anny.

"Pity. Well, you can't blame me for trying."

"No," said Anny with a small smile. "But only up to a point. And I think that point has been reached. Okay?"

"Fine! Fine! No offense intended."

"And none taken. Let's keep it that way."

"Message received, ma'am!" said Estaban a bit testily and waving his hand as if saluting. "You're a lucky man, Naddel."

"That I am, that I am," said Jer smugly and smiling at Anny. She smiled back and the warmth matched the ray of sunshine that was now falling on his back through the window.

"And Sven?" said Anny.

"Yeah?"

"If any of your friends happen to ask, could you let them know the score? Might save us some… awkwardness."

"Oh. Sure, sure. It'd be my pleasure." The look on his face indicated that he might, in fact, take some pleasure in dashing the hopes of fellow officers.

"Thanks, we appreciate it."

They finished eating and Jer nearly picked up his tray to return it to the kitchen until he noticed that everyone else was just leaving theirs on the table. Apparently they would be retrieved by the enlistedmen working here. They went outside and Jer checked the time. "Five minutes until assembly." He took a deep breath. "Well, I guess I better go meet my boss."

"Yeah, me too," said Anny. She gently punched his shoulder. "Good luck. You, too, Alby. If I don't see you at lunch, I'll see you at dress parade tonight."

"Right-O. Good luck to you, too." Jer winked at her and then headed for the H Company barracks.

[Scene Break]

Anny watched Jer walk off and then she turned and headed toward the building where C Company was housed. Alby said good-bye and trotted off to regimental headquarters. Estaban stayed with her and initially she was a bit annoyed, but since B Company was right next to C Company she could hardly protest since they both had to go the same way. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she hoped he'd taken the hint and wouldn't keep trying his luck. Estaban peeled off at his company's barracks, giving her a friendly wave, and Anny walked another hundred meters and found herself standing outside a three-story building labeled 'C Company' with a large sign over the door.

_Well, this is it._

The barracks were all built with the offices and common space on the ground floor while the bunks of the enlistedmen were upstairs. She took a deep breath and went through the door. As she'd expected, the main company office was the first room she came to. She went inside and saw several officers standing there and a couple of corporals sitting at desks working at comconsoles. One of the officers, though wearing lieutenant's tabs, had the small gold pips on his collar that denoted a company commander. Vorstang, she assumed. She stepped up next to him and when he turned in her direction, she saluted. "Lieutenant Payne reporting for duty, sir."

Vorstang was a bit taller than her, stocky, although certainly not fat, maybe ten years older and he had blond hair and sharp blue eyes. Those eyes were suddenly boring holes right through her. He slowly returned her salute. "Ah yes, Payne. I was informed last night that you'd be joining us." She smiled, waiting for some word of welcome, or perhaps a handshake, but neither was forthcoming. A moment later she heard a bugler sounding assembly outside. This was followed by a rush of pounding feet that actually made the building tremble slightly. "Well, we better get out there, eh?" Vorstang walked past her and out the door and she scrambled to catch up.

Each of the company barracks buildings had a clear space in front of it for the company to form up. The men were quickly assembling in their ranks. Anny noticed they were in their PT—physical training—gear. She assumed that some order had been issued for that. The officers and senior NCOs were all in black fatigues, so they'd guessed right about that anyway.

Each platoon was in its own location with the NCOs and commanding officer out in front. Last night the battalion commander had said something about her taking over for the sergeant who had been commanding 3rd Platoon, but she had no idea if Vorstang would actually want her to command that platoon or if he was planning to shuffle things around. In any case she could see the sergeant out in front of 3rd Platoon and she certainly wasn't going to try and push him aside! She went over to Vorstang. "Where would you like me, sir?"

"What? Oh, just stay right here for the moment."

"Yes sir."

The last few men found their spots and the company was called to attention. After a few moments the first sergeant, a man named Nikolaidis if the roster she'd studied just before breakfast was accurate, came up and saluted Vorstang and reported that the company was formed.

"Very good, Sergeant," said Vorstang. He stepped forward and looked over his company. "Morning everyone," he said.

"_Good morning, sir!"_

Vorstang hadn't spoken loudly, but the whole company shouted back in reply.

"We've got a routine day ahead of us. PT this morning, a full unarmored kit inspection at 1400 and, of course dress parade at 1700. However, I do have two pieces of news to pass along. The first is bittersweet. Some time in the coming days we'll be saying good-bye to Sergeant Milroy. You all know what a fine job he's done leading 3rd Platoon and as incredible as it might seem, the higher-ups have actually noticed!" This brought a small chuckle from the men. "Milroy will be heading off to OCS where they will attempt to make a gentleman out of him. He probably considers this a fate worse than death, but we all live to serve the Imperium and he will go and he will do us proud, I'm sure. We can hope that he will return to us, but one never knows. In any event, we all wish him godspeed." This brought a murmur of assent and then someone called for three cheers for Sergeant Milroy and this was given with enthusiasm. Anny could see the sergeant in front of his platoon, blushing in the morning sun.

"The other bit of news," continued Vorstang, "is the reason why Sergeant Milroy is going to be able to leave us. We have a new officer joining the company today." He gestured toward Anny. "This is Lieutenant Payne. She will be taking over for Milroy when he leaves. I'm sure you'll give her the same respect and cooperation as you did the Sergeant."

The men just stared at her, not making a sound. Some of their eyes appeared quite wide. Anny stared back at them. _Okay, so I'll have 3__rd__ Platoon. Taking over for a popular predecessor. This could be a challenge._ She'd already noticed that the commanders of 2nd Platoon and the weapons platoon were ensigns whom she outranked. There might be some resentment there, too. She was going to have her work cut out for her.

"All right, I think that's all for now," said Vorstang. "Dahlberg, Vorgard, Zolek, Milroy, if you'll meet me inside, Payne, you have the company."

"Sir?" said Anny in surprise.

"Carry on, Lieutenant." Vorstang turned away and walked back toward the barracks. The four platoon commanders moved to join him.

_Okay…_

The officers disappeared inside and the whole company was staring at her. '_Always at least _appear_ to know what you're doing.'_ Commodore Koudelka had taught her that before she ever set foot at Academy. The advice had served her well there and there was no reason it wouldn't work here.

"First Sergeant Nikolaidis."

"Uh… sir?" The First Sergeant looked at her in surprise. Perhaps he hadn't expected her to know his name. _Preparation! Preparation!_ She'd only survived at the Academy by being prepared. She wasn't about to change now.

"Move them out, First Sergeant."

"Yes sir." He nodded at her and turned to face the men. "Company! Right-face! Forward, double quick—march!" The men started off at a brisk trot and Anny trotted along with them. She suspected they were headed for one of the big fields where she'd seen men doing PT yesterday, but she wasn't sure if C Company had a specific spot assigned to it. _If you aren't sure of the answer, try to delegate the job to someone who does._ Another lesson from the Commodore.

They left the barracks area and moved down the road. All the other companies seemed to be headed the same way. They reached a big, open field—not the same one where they'd done dress parade yesterday—and each company found a spot. Anny watched as Nikolaidis had the company open ranks and intervals to give the men room for the calisthenics and then put them to work, supervised by the platoon sergeants. Anny stood close to Nikolaidis and they both watched.

"First Sergeant?" she said after a while.

"Sir?"

"I'm guessing that Sergeant Milroy is quite popular with his men. True?"

"Yes sir. He's a good man. Way too smart to stay a sergeant. He'll make a fine officer. But the boys are gonna to miss him."

"Do you think they are going to have a problem with me taking over for him? I could understand some of them being… resentful."

She could feel him staring at her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the exercising men. He took a while to answer. "There might be a few, sir. But if any of them give you a problem…"

"If any of them do, I'm sure I can handle them, First Sergeant. I've been handling hardheads for four years."

"If you say so, sir."

Now she did look at him and there was a slightly skeptical look on his face. She stared at him until he looked away. "What's the usual schedule for this?"

"An hour of the exercises and then a road march, sir. We just take the perimeter road and circle the base a couple of times. One circuit is about nine klicks so we'll do two or three times around."

"Is it two or three times around?"

"Uh, depends on the officer in command, the weather, and what else the boys are gonna be doing that day."

"Well, it's a beautiful day and a full kit inspection isn't very grueling. So I guess it's up to me, isn't it, First Sergeant?"

"It would be up to you in any case, sir."

"Indeed it would. Three then, I think."

"Yes sir."

For the next hour Anny quizzed him about the way things were run in C Company. Every outfit had its own little idiosyncrasies and Anny wanted to know about as many of them as possible before she made some silly mistake. Nikolaidis seemed surprise at the grilling, but Anny learned a lot just in that short time. Finally, after the men were allowed to rest for ten minutes, they were called back into formation. Nikolaidis moved to give the command to begin the march, but Anny stepped up instead.

"Attention-Company! Right-face! Forward, double quick-march!" she bellowed. At the Academy she'd developed her 'command voice'. Her voice was higher-pitched than most men's, but it carried nicely and a few men looked at her in surprise that she could produce a noise like that.

And they were off. Twenty-seven kilometers in about four hours was not an especially grueling pace for men in good condition and these men were in good condition and not burdened with any gear. Once on the perimeter road Anny noticed that there were several places where drinking water was available and she made sure that the five-minute break they got each hour was at one of those spots. The day was turning warm and she felt that depriving the men of water was a needless cruelty for an ordinary exercise like this. Also she needed the water herself. She was discovering, to her dismay, that the last three months without any serious exercise had left her a bit out of shape. She had been in superb shape when she'd left on the training cruise, but between spending two months on the convoy flagship and the last month back at the Academy getting ready for graduation, she'd let her regular exercise regimen lapse. Still, she could handle this. She'd have to ask if there was an exercise room for the officers. There must be…

Many of the men were gawking at her and during the breaks she often heard laughs when her back was turned that suddenly cut off when she looked. But that was normal and didn't bother her.

One time around, two times around. They had nearly completed the third circuit and it was about 1115. She halted the company and let the men rest. Plenty of time to get them back to the barracks, shower, and get their noon chow. The full-kit inspection wasn't until 1400 so they'd have time to get ready for that. Good. She knew that some officers deliberately cut the timing of activities close to make life as difficult as possible for their troops under the theory that it would make them tougher. Commodore Koudelka had told her that the troops referred to that sort of thing as 'chickenshit' and all it did was make them resent the officer. So no chickenshit here.

The men were called back into ranks and she ordered the company's second sergeant to get them moving. As they trotted past her she turned to ask Nikolaidis a question about the coming inspection. "First Sergeant, when we form up for the inspection, do you usually…" _EEEP! _She froze.

"Sir?" said Nikolaidis in confusion.

One of the passing soldiers had just pinched her on the ass.

A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant.

_Did I imagine that? No I didn't! Oh Shit! Do I ignore it? Make a scene? Shit! Shit! Son of a…_

"Company-_HALT!_"

Her order was so loud and so sudden that some of the men actually bumped into each other as the company came to a ragged stop. Many heads turned in her direction.

"Sir?" asked Nikolaidis again, his eyes very wide. Clearly he hadn't seen what had happened.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and looked up the column toward the head of the company. _How many seconds passed before I halted them? Four, five at the most. A hundred and twenty paces to the minute, eighty centimeter steps, that would put the culprit right about… there!_ Someone in 3rd Platoon. Oh yeah, that would figure. But she couldn't be exactly sure which man. It could be that one, or the man just ahead of him. Which one?

_It doesn't matter._

She slowly walked up to the man she suspected. "Company-front!" Everyone turned to face her. She stared at them, they stared at her. The man in front of her was looking a bit pale. Strange for a man who'd been out running in the sun for three hours. The man behind him appeared to be stifling a laugh. _Bingo._

"Well!" she said loudly while stepping back so everyone could see her. "We haven't really had a chance to get to know each other. I can see that you are all in fine shape. But all the time I was training to become an assault trooper, I kept getting told about how good they were at close combat. During the time I spent with the 42nd I discovered that they took their close combat drill very seriously. I'm wondering if the 61st feels the same way." She took a deep breath. She was taking a real risk here. "But there's really only one way to find that out isn't there? We've got a few spare minutes and I was wondering if one of you boys might go a few throws with me? A short, unscheduled close-combat drill. Any takers?" Before anyone could, answer, she moved back in front of the pale trooper. She looked at the name stenciled on his t-shirt. "How about you, Private… ah… Kerbeck? You look like a man who knows how to use his hands." Several snorts of laughter came from the rear rank. "Come on, you're not afraid are you?" The man's face began to redden.

"Lieutenant Payne," said First Sergeant Nikolaidis uncertainly. "What are you…?"

"I just want to see what your men are made of. So how about it, Kerbeck? Can you show me what you're made of?"

The man was looking annoyed now and he stepped out of the ranks. "I reckon I can… sir."

"Good! Right over here should do. Come on." She moved back a dozen paces, tossed her cap on the ground behind her and went into a crouch. Kerbeck looked nervously between her and Nikolaidis. The First Sergeant just shrugged in confusion.

Anny launched herself forward.

Kerbeck wasn't even remotely ready and in an instant he was flying through the air to land flat on his back. A loud _oof!_ came out of him. He rolled over and stared at her in astonishment. "Sorry," said Anny casually. "Guess I caught you by surprise, huh? Wanna try that again?"

The man scrambled to his feet and tried to get into a defensive stance, but Anny was on him in a heartbeat and he went flying again. "Well!" exclaimed Anny, scratching her head. "Maybe I heard wrong." She half-turned to face Nikolaidis. "It looks like we've got some work to do here…" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kerbeck on his feet and charging her. She dodged aside and slammed a kick into his ribs—just hard enough to send him sprawling again, but not hard enough to break anything.

"At least they seem to have spirit, First Sergeant, hopefully with some training they can…" Kerbeck came at her again and again he landed heavily on the ground. In passing he had managed to punch Anny solidly in the side and she forced herself not to wince. "Okay, that was a bit better! There may be hope for you yet, Private Kerbeck."

The man staggered to his feet and came at her again. But he was stunned and his fury was in control of him. Anny had never liked close-combat training, but she'd forced herself to learn it and she was really quite good. Drou Koudelka and Sergeant Major Szytko had seen to that. Kerbeck probably wasn't all that bad, but he was no match for her—at least not in his present condition. Anny pummeled him for a good five minutes until he was battered and bloody and gasping for air on the ground.

"Lieutenant Payne!" said Nikolaidis loudly.

"Yes?" She turned and stared him in the eyes and didn't blink.

"You… uh… we … we're gonna be late for chow."

"Heavens! You're right! And that won't do! We're all hungry. If a few of you men will help Private Kerbeck back into ranks we can get going." Two men came forward and helped their buddy up. They had very strange expressions on their faces. Anny retrieved her cap and the company got moving again and she had Nikolaidis take them straight back to the barracks and dismissed them. They moved at the normal quick-time pace instead of double-quick and Anny took advantage of that to catch her breath and stop her trembling. She hadn't enjoyed that at all. She really hoped she'd done the right thing.

After the company was dismissed she checked in at the company office, but Vorstang wasn't there and the duty sergeant didn't have any additional orders for her so she headed back to her quarters to get showered before lunch. As she peeled off her sweat-soaked fatigues, she groaned. Despite her easy win over Kerbeck, he had managed to land a few blows and she was going to be black and blue in the morning. She took a pain pill and showered and then put on her undress greens. The First Sergeant had told her that the officers typically wore their greens for an inspection.

In the mess hall she ran into Jer and Estaban. There was no sign of Alby. "So, how'd it go?" asked Sven as they found a table.

"Okay," said Jer. "Just PT this morning—as you know. We'll really get down to things this afternoon: we're having an inspection at the armory. Gonna haul out all the heavy equipment and give it a going over. How about you, Anny?"

"Oh, pretty much the same," she replied. "Full kit inspection this afternoon." She had no intention of mentioning the other incident with Estaban listening. She wasn't entirely sure how much trouble she or Private Kerbeck could get into over it.

They chatted over their food for a bit and Estaban mentioned that he'd heard that the following month would see all the reservists from the 139th pouring in and that there would be a full-scale exercise involving the whole brigade. "Sounds like fun," he said.

"Where will they be holding it?" asked Anny.

"That I didn't hear. But I imagine it will either be up in the mountains or on the coastal plain on the other side of them. Desolate area up there, hardly any people at all. Less property damage that way." He grinned.

Just as they were getting up, Lieutenant Vorstang came by. He had an odd expression on his face. "Everything go all right this morning, Payne?" he asked.

"Yes sir. The men look to be in fine condition. Actually, I was wondering if there's a gymnasium for the officers, sir? I need to keep myself in shape."

"What? Oh, right. Yes, we have a facility attached to the regimental mess building." He paused and looked at her closely. "So you have nothing else to report from this morning?"

"Sir? No sir, it seemed completely routine."

"I… see. Very well, carry on."

"Yes sir." Vorstang moved off but looked back over his shoulder at her.

"What was that all about?" asked Jer.

"Tell you about it later," she said quietly.

The full unarmored kit inspection was also completely routine. Vorstang had Anny accompany Sergeant Milroy as he inspected 3rd Platoon. They shook hands, but Milroy was eying her suspiciously. Was he afraid that she was going to try and steal his platoon? He'd be leaving soon anyway. Was he angry that she'd beat up one of his men? She needed to talk to him, but this wasn't the place.

The men were drawn up in the same area as they used to assemble in the morning. Each man was carrying a full set of field gear, weapons, equipment and supplies. The 61st was an assault regiment which meant that they normally went into combat wearing the impressive and deadly suits of powered battle armor, but they also had to be able to operate like normal infantry if the situation demanded it. A full kit weighed about 50 kilos and included an incredible amount of stuff. The company took intervals and then each man laid out all his gear on the ground in front of him, every item having an exact spot per the regulations.

She and Milroy and the platoon sergeant, a man named Kay, then proceeded from man to man, checking his gear, making comments or suggestions or corrections as necessary. Kay held a computer pad for noting any infractions. Anny had already started memorizing the names and faces of the men in what would soon be her platoon, but now she took the opportunity to look them over in the flesh. The photos in their records often looked different than the real thing. When they got to Private Kerbeck, she saw that he had a few spectacular bruises on his face. She didn't think she'd hit him _that_ hard in the face… He dropped his eyes when he saw her looking at him. But Milroy inspected his gear without comment and passed on to the next man.

As they proceeded, she noticed that while Milroy only closely checked some of the gear, seemingly at random, he opened each and every first aid kit and checked the contents thoroughly. After a bit he spoke to Anny quietly. "We've got standing orders from the Colonel to check the first aid kits. About a year ago we discovered that there was a group of troopers—in the 139th—that were stealing or buying the drugs out of the kits and selling them to a black market ring in the town. It was quite a scandal. So now we have to check. And check closely: they were putting fake ampoules back into the kits so they wouldn't be missed."

"Until they needed them in combat," said Anny, not trying to hide her distaste.

"Yeah. Too damn few combat vets left in the regiment to pass that lesson along. Still, there hasn't been an incident in a long time so maybe the message is getting through."

Aside from Anny, Milroy and Kay, there were forty other men in the platoon so it took nearly two hours to complete the inspection. Anny was pleased to note that it had been done properly, no shortcuts. Milroy was a good commander and she hoped she'd have a chance to sit down with him and really discuss the platoon in detail—and hopefully settle whatever issue lay between them. The fact that he wasn't an officer made that a little more difficult. He couldn't meet her in the regimental mess or in the BOQ. She'd have to arrange some place in the barracks offices, she supposed.

They finished up about 1600 so they had an hour until dress parade. Milroy disappeared into the barracks with the troops before she could suggest a meeting, so Anny headed back to her quarters to get ready for the parade. She checked at Jer's door, but it was locked. So he wasn't back yet. Neither was Alby. As she walked down the hall toward her own room, she saw that the door was standing open. What…?

Remembering an unpleasant incident in her first year at the Academy, she cautiously approached and peered in. There was a man inside and he appeared to be polishing her boots. _Ah! My dog robber!_ No one had mentioned he'd be coming today. She stepped into the room and cleared her throat. The man looked up, saw her, and sprang to his feet.

"Ah, Lieutenant Payne? I'm Lance Corporal Jacowitz. I've been assigned t'you."

_Lance Corporal?_ That wasn't a standard rank in the Barrayaran military. But Anny recalled that some of the long-established regiments clung to some of the old traditions. When she was with the 42nd their color sergeant was referred to as the _bannerman_. She supposed that lance corporal was a rank shoehorned in between private and corporal. A sort of senior-private position. And Jacowitz certainly qualified as senior. He looked to be in his fifties and a glance at the hashmarks on his sleeve told Anny that he'd been in the service for thirty-six years. He was a good ten centimeters shorter than her and slightly stooped. Gray-haired, where he had any hair—he was pretty much bald on top. He had prominent cheekbones and a bulbous nose that looked rather pink compared to the rest of his face which was wrinkled and weather-beaten.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Lance Corporal," said Anny, coming forward and offering her hand. "I take it that you're going to be working for me?"

He took her hand and shook it. "Yes, ma'am, if you'll have me."

Anny hesitated. Did she really want a personal servant? She'd never had anything like that before—well, when she'd stayed at Vorkosigan House she'd had more servants than she could shake a stick at, but that didn't really count. But to have someone serving her personally felt just sort of… awkward. On the other hand, did she really want to have to waste valuable time doing laundry, shining boots and making her bed? That was the whole reason officers were allowed to have servants: they had better things to do with their time than all the routine stuff that they'd learned so well at the Academy. "Glad to have you, Lance Corporal," she said. "Uh, I'm new at this, so forgive my ignorance. How does this all work? You have regular duties, too, don't you? And I'm expected to pay you, right?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do various jobs at battalion HQ, so I can only spare you a coupla hours a day. As for th'pay, that just comes right outta your pay. You hafta sign a form at HQ and then it's automatic."

"I see." He hadn't mentioned how much…

"But…" Jacowitz hesitated and his face reddened. "Seein' as how you're a woman I'm thinking that we're gonna hafta work out a system so you keep your privacy, if you get my meaning."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Normally, it don't matter if I barge in on one of the young gentlemen when he's in the altogether, but I wouldn't wanna do that with you, ma'am. Shouldn't really be alone with you neither—that's why I left the door open."

Anny forced herself not to laugh. "Maybe I should get one of those little 'do not disturb' signs like they have at hotels and hang it on the doorknob."

"That could work," said Jacowitz brightly. "I'll see about having one made, ma'am." Anny choked. She'd been joking.

"Uh, I don't think we really need to do that." She could just imagine the jokes that would create among the other officers! "We'll just have to work out a schedule so we don't have any… problems."

"All right, if you say so, ma'am." Jacowitz looked disappointed. "Just don't want to do anything improper. M'wife's gonna be upset enough as it is when she hears who I'm workin' for."

"You're married?"

"Oh yes, ma'am! Polly an' I have been married twenty-five years last month. Fine woman, but a tad jealous if you take my meanin', ma'am."

"I see. Well we won't do anything to arouse her suspicions then, will we?" She grinned and he smiled back. "Oh, and the proper form of address for me is 'sir', Lance Corporal."

"Really, ma—uh, sir?"

"Yes. Saves confusion."

"If you say so… sir." The man didn't look convinced. "An' you can just call me 'Jac', everyone else does. Uh, I've laid out your things for the dress parade." He gestured to her bed where her dress greens were, indeed, all laid out for her. She glanced at them and then stopped and looked closer. "You were missin' a few things, sir. The Colonel is a real stickler for everyone bein' properly dressed. I got your record and saw you were entitled to a few more things than you had so I went down to the PX and got 'em."

On her collar, on top of the red lieutenant's tabs, were a brass '61' on one side and 'VG' on the other side. The 42nd wore similar items, but they didn't hand them out routinely. Apparently the 61st did things differently. And on the chest of the tunic, on the opposite side from her medals two new items had been added. There was an Infantry Combat Badge and an Assault Landing Badge with a single tiny star indicating a combat drop under fire. She realized that under the regulations she was entitled to wear them, but she'd never even thought about it before. Along with her other medals it made quite a display for a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant.

"Thank you, Jac, that was very thoughtful. But you say the 'Colonel' is a stickler. Is that Colonel Vortaglia, or Lieutenant Colonel Fetherbay?"

"Uh, well, both of 'em, sir. But it was Fetherbay who told me t'see to it."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. A place for everything and everything in its place, that's the way he feels about things."

"And is that how you feel about things, Jac?"

"Pretty much, sir. Makes things easier."

"So how do you feel about me being here? A lot of people have told me that I'm something that's definitely _out_ of place. Do you have a problem with it?"

Jacowitz looked startled. "Uh… well, sir, I'll admit that it does take some gettin' used to. But then," he gestured to the medals on her tunic, "unless they've started handing those things out with the ration packs, it's kinda hard saying that you're outta place here. Sir."

They looked each other in the eye for a long moment and then Anny nodded. "Well, all right then. I guess I better get changed for dress parade."

"Yes sir," said Jacowitz. "Will you be needing me for anything more today?"

"I don't think so."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, sir. Oh, what time do you normally get up, sir? I can be here with coffee ready if you like."

"Oh, no need for that, Jac. I don't usually take my first cup until breakfast. But thanks anyway."

"Very good, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." Jacowitz bowed himself out and shut the door behind him. Anny let out a long sigh.

_Well, that could have gone a lot worse. I guess this can work._ She went about changing into her dress greens, but she couldn't get Jacowitz's statement about Fetherbay telling him to get all her decorations in place. Why would the acting regimental commander worry about something like that? Was he sending some message? And if so, to whom?

As she was setting her cap in place she noticed a small flimsy lying on top of her dresser. She took it and saw that it was a receipt from the PX for the two new badges and the collar brass on her tunic. Jacowitz had put her name down and the price would be charged to her. It wasn't a huge amount, but if Jac was going to be spending her money on things, she needed to know about it. She supposed she better go and see the payroll officer tomorrow and find out how much she was paying him, too. A lieutenant's salary wouldn't stretch very far.

She bumped into Alby and Jer as she headed out of the building and they compared notes during the short walk to the barracks area. She noted that both had the collar brass and that Alby had the same two extra badges she was wearing. "So, got your own dog robbers, eh?" she quipped.

"Yeah," said Alby. "An antique just like we have at Vorsworth House. I feel right at home." They all laughed. The servants at Alby's home were all in their sixties or seventies.

They didn't have time to say any more as they reached the barracks area. A bugler was sounding assembly and the troops were erupting from the buildings. "See you guys at dinner," she said as they parted. Anny went over to where C Company was forming up. Her post would be in the rear of 3rd Platoon with the file closers. There was an awkward moment when she met Sergeant Milroy there. She outranked him, but he was the platoon commander. She settled the matter by taking a spot a few paces to the left of where the platoon commander should stand. Milroy nodded to her and took his position.

"I need to talk to you after the parade, Lieutenant," he said quietly.

"That would be good," she replied.

Dress parade was a bit different from the previous evening. Anny's viewpoint was different, of course, with her at first behind the line of troops and then later out in front with all the other company officers. With two battalions present and Colonel Fetherbay there, it was larger and had an extra step thrown in where the company first sergeants reported to the battalion adjutants who then reported to the regimental adjutant who then reported to Fetherbay. But it all went off splendidly. Fetherbay didn't have any special orders nor any comments to the officers as they wrapped up. The parade was dismissed and the troops began to disperse.

Except for the 3rd platoon of C Company.

"Lieutenant Payne?" said Milroy. "Could you come over here?" He gestured to where the platoon was waiting.

"Certainly, Sergeant," said Anny, trying to sound a lot more confident than she felt. What was this about? She followed him over to the men.

"Lieutenant? Private Kerbeck has something to say to you."

Anny's eyebrows shot up as the man she'd beaten up that morning came forward, looking embarrassed and glancing back at his mates. He came up to her and saluted. "Lieutenant Payne? I want to… I wanted to apologize for what I did. I'm really sorry and it won't happen again." He glanced at Milroy with an 'okay-I-did-it-can-I-go-now?' expression on his face. Milroy, however said nothing and his face was frozen.

Anny stared at Kerbeck until he was really sweating. "Well," she said finally, "thank you, Private, I accept your apology and I'm willing to consider the matter closed." Kerbeck looked relieved.

"Thank you, sir. It was really stupid of me and…"

"Lieutenant Payne would be quite justified in pressing charges against you, Kerbeck," said Milroy with a note of menace in his voice. "You could have disgraced the whole platoon." Kerbeck looked pale again.

"I could have pressed charges," said Anny, "but I hoped that the… uh… measures I took would get the message across better. It would appear that I was right. And I checked Private Kerbeck's record later, Sergeant, and I see that he's a good man. Just a tad too exuberant at times." This produced a laugh from the rest of the platoon.

"Thank you, sir," said Kerbeck. "And the message was received loud and clear, sir! You really mopped the floor with me!" The man grinned sheepishly.

"She let you off lightly, Kerbeck," said Milroy. "I did some record checking, too. Do you see what the Lieutenant is wearing on her tunic? The gold one?"

"Uh, yes sir."

"What is it?"

"The… the Medal for Conspicuous Gallantry, sir."

"Do you know what she did to earn it?"

"Uh, that fight out in the Merganthal Reaches…"

"She earned it for, among other things, killing three enemy soldiers, in battle armor, in hand-to-hand combat, Private. Hand-to-hand!"

"Holy shit…" There was a stir in the whole platoon and some whispered comments. Anny found herself blushing. The memory of that blood-soaked and terrifying encounter was not one she relished.

"Now all of you listen up!" said Milroy loudly. "Starting next week Lieutenant Payne will be in command of this platoon. I will be leaving for OCS. But I still have my contacts here! And if I hear that any one of you apes has treated the Lieutenant with anything less than the utmost respect, I promise you that I will go AWOL, come back here, and kick the asses of every one of you across the East Ridge! You hear me?"

"_Yes sir!"_ The whole platoon roared in reply.

"Any questions?"

"Uh, yeah, what's 'utmost' mean?" The voice came from the rear rank and everyone laughed.

"It means I kick _your_ ass _twice_, Soblinski!" snapped Milroy. "Now shut up!"

"Yes sir!"

Milroy turned to face her. "I think that about wraps things up, Lieutenant."

"Yes, I think so. And Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"Thank you."

"Sir!" Milroy saluted crisply and Anny returned it. Milroy called the platoon to attention, but Private Kerbeck held back for a moment.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Private?"

Kerbeck's voice fell to a whisper. "Howdja know it was me, sir?"

"Lucky guess." Kerbeck looked surprised and then a bit scandalized. "But I figured that even if I guessed wrong, my message would find its way to the right man sooner or later," continued Anny. "Don't you think, Private?"

A smile appeared on his face. "Yes, sir! It sure would have!"

"Kerbeck! Back in ranks!" snapped Milroy.

"Yes sir!" Kerbeck scampered to his spot. Anny watched the platoon march off, a smile slowly growing on her face and an elation growing in her heart. She turned and walked off quickly, hoping to catch up with Jer and Alby. She wasn't surprised to find them—and Sven Estaban—lingering by the edge of the parade ground waiting for her.

"What was that all about?" asked Alby.

"Oh, just a few administrative things we needed to work out," she replied. She moved next to Jer and they headed toward the regimental mess.

"How was your day?" asked Jer.

"Good. Really good."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A**lby Vorsworth came out of the shower and found that Quinton was already there with the coffee. "Good morning, sir," he said.

"Morning," replied Alby. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."

"The base works seven days a week, sir."

"The base, but not all the people. I don't have any duty today, nor tomorrow. You should take the day off."

"I don't mind sir. Keeps me busy. You know what they say about idle hands, sir."

"Well, frankly, I fully intend to keep my own hands entirely idle today, Quinton! I'll take my chances with the Devil."

The elderly enlistedman chuckled. "Hard week, sir?"

"A bit hectic, yes." Alby was tempted to say more, but then thought better of it. Officers shouldn't complain in front of enlistedmen. But he did feel like complaining to someone. When Colonel Fetherbay had assigned him to the simulator project it had seemed like a dream come true. He loved computers and wasn't nearly so enamored to all the marching around and saluting stuff that seemed to be so dear to Anny and Jer. He thought it was going to be perfect.

Until he found out what a mess the project was.

Nobody seemed to be in charge. Or rather, there were too many people who thought they were in charge. There was a civilian from the company who made the simulators, another civilian in charge of the construction crew building the building the simulators would go in, and then there was a lieutenant from brigade headquarters, a guy named Pflugfelter, who had been told to run the whole circus. Unfortunately, Pflugfelter's experience with computers was limited to maintaining the comconsoles used on the base and not much more. Theoretically he could boss around the guy from the simulator company, but he didn't know enough to do so. And Alby quickly deduced that the higher ranking officers had little interest and no faith in the damn simulators anyway. They didn't care if the project was ever completed. There would be no help from that quarter.

No help, but probably plenty of blame.

Obviously someone higher up in the military or the government thought that the simulators were a good idea and no doubt sooner or later one of them was going to ask why the simulator facility at Fort Vorolson wasn't up and running? At that point heads would start rolling. Alby didn't have any particular concern for his own head, but he still didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

_Maybe I can talk to… oh, stop that! You've worried enough about it for one week. Take the day off!_

The idea that he _could_ take the day off was novel. At the Academy down-time had come in tiny droplets. An hour here, an afternoon there, but for the most part the cadets' schedules were unrelenting. After four years it had become so ingrained that rediscovering the concept of the _weekend_ made Alby feel like he'd found some grand new world.

He put on his undress greens as he drank coffee and chatted with Quinton. The man actually did remind him a good bit of some of the male servants at Vorsworth House, but that wasn't all that surprising: they were all ex-military, too. Unlike officers, the enlistedmen were forced to retire after forty years in the service. Many of these 'twice twenty year men' found jobs as servants for upper-class Vor. From the look of the hashmarks on his sleeves, Quinton was going to find himself in that situation in just another year.

He finished the coffee, sealed up his tunic, grabbed his hat and went out the door with a wave to his dog-robber. He glanced down the hall toward Anny's room, but the door was closed. He went down the steps and found Anny and Jer just coming out of Jer's room. Had they spent the night together or…? _None of my business. None of anyone's business!_

There had been a time when he'd felt a bit jealous of Jer. He'd sort of been in love with Anny himself. But then any of the cadets who weren't outright enemies had sort of been in love with Anny. Alby had gotten over that, primarily by falling in love with someone else. Abigail Vorburn, one of the girls in the next batch allowed into the Academy, the 'Second Six' as they'd come to call themselves, had become his friend. There were times when it seemed like they were in love and times when it didn't. Abbie was just as determined to make it through the Academy as Anny had been and she wasn't going let something like an infatuated Alby Vorsworth derail her goal. Abbie had just started her third year, so it was going to be a while before they could be anything more than just friends. Alby wrote to her frequently and she wrote back as often as her busy schedule allowed.

"Howdy folks," said Alby cheerfully. "Ready to explore the town?"

His friends both smiled and agreed enthusiastically. They headed out the door and Alby turned toward where the shuttle bus to the town would pick them up. "What? No breakfast first?" asked Jer, looking toward the mess hall.

"There must be places in the town to eat," said Alby. "I'd like to try something different."

"Yeah, but here it's free."

"No problem, my treat."

"Alby, we can't keep mooching off you," said Anny. "You're always treating us to meals."

"Always? I've had the opportunity to buy you meals, what? About a dozen times in the four years we've known each other?"

"More than that."

"Not much!" denied Alby. "But if you are so determined to refuse my hospitality, well, then, let's go to the mess hall…" he turned in that direction with an exaggerated look of sorrow on his face.

He hadn't gone five steps before Jer grabbed him by one arm and Anny by the other, physically hoisted him into the air, and turned him back toward the shuttle stop. "Help! Help! I'm being forced to buy breakfast!" he cried, but not very loudly. They all laughed. The bus arrived only moments later and they piled aboard. Alby looked fondly at Anny and Jer. They, along with Abbie and Patric Mederov, were his best friends in the world. Growing up he'd never had any real friends except for a few of the servants who were all sixty years his senior.

Alby's childhood had been anything but typical. The Vorsworth family had a long and distinguished history of service to the Empire. All the males had always served in the military. He had two older brothers who were both killed serving the Empire before Alby had been born. Indeed, if they hadn't died, Alby never would have been born. During the Time of Isolation, before Barrayar had regained galactic technology, the deaths of the two siblings would have meant an end to the Vorsworth line. His parents were both in their sixties at the time and had no other close relations—except for their disowned daughter. But with galactic technology available, specifically genetic testing and the uterine replicator, it was still possible for his parents to have another child. Alby had been the result. He would carry on the line and the family traditions.

In his younger years he hadn't known enough to see anything odd in the situation, but as he grew older he began to realize—and resent—the fact that he'd been… _created_ simply as a replacement for his two dead brothers. That resentment very nearly became outright rebellion on Alby's part. He had come within a millimeter of turning his back on his parents, the Academy, everything, and just walking away. It had only been the deep friendships he'd developed at the Academy that prevented him from doing so. He felt no particular loyalty to his parents, but he would have died for his friends—just as they would have for him. And that was no empty cliché. They had very nearly died for each other on more than one occasion. The ribbons on Anny's and Jer's—and his own—chests had been won as much for saving each other as for service to the Imperium.

The bus made a circuit through the fort, picking up other people and then headed into the town of Malverton. Apparently the place had started out as a tiny logging camp built beside the headwaters of the Pinios River. From that it had grown into a major supplier of lumber to the Vortugalov District. There were still several sawmills in operation, but the primary business of the town was now supporting the sprawling military base just to the north.

The bus let them off in the main square of the town. It was still pretty early and there weren't that many people on the street yet. The place had a tidy and welcoming appearance and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. An exhilarating feeling of freedom and unlimited potential filled Alby. They strolled around the square and then he spotted what appeared to be a restaurant halfway down the block on a side street. "Let's try there," he said. It was a cozy little place and the prices were low enough that Anny and Jer didn't object. The cuisine was indeed different from what was served in the mess hall. Despite its Anglo name, Malverton was primarily inhabited by the descendents of the Greek settlers who had made up about a quarter of the "Firsters" who had colonized Barrayar. But the food was good and the waitress friendly. Alby left her a nice tip. He noticed that the waitress and several of the other patrons were staring curiously at Anny, but she was so used to that she didn't seem to notice. They spent the meal comparing the events of the previous week.

"So, you'll be in command of your platoon starting next week," said Jer to Anny. "Think they'll give you any trouble?"

"I hope not, "she replied. "They seem like good men."

"Well, after the way you beat the snot out of the one guy, I doubt the others will get out of line!" said Alby with a laugh.

"I can't solve every problem by beating up my men, Alby."

"No, but it can't hurt for them to know that you can beat them up if necessary," said Jer. "I think you probably made a good first impression on them, Anny."

"I hope so. But what about you? Did you have to beat up anyone in H Company?"

"Nope, things went pretty smoothly. Well, the commander of 1st platoon, Vorkerkas, seems like a bit of a snob, but he hasn't made any trouble so far. I've got the anti-tank platoon and I need to get up to speed with the ordnance. It's a bit older than what I trained on. Fortunately the platoon sergeant knows the stuff backwards and forwards and he seems willing to work with me. That was my big worry: he's been more or less in charge for quite a while and I was afraid he might object to me coming in and taking over. So I don't think I'll need to break any heads."

"Well, I could use someone to break some heads for me!" said Alby. "If either of you would like to help me out with that, I'd be grateful."

"Problems?" asked Anny.

"Oh, a few." He spent a few minutes venting his frustrations. "But enough of that! What do you guys want to do today?"

"Oh, just look around, I guess," said Jer.

"Well, we've got all day—and all night to explore. With all the troops here I'll bet they've got plenty of things to entertain them."

"I can't stay out too late," said Anny. "I've got an appointment with the base armorer at 0800."

"You've got duty tomorrow?" asked Alby in surprise.

"Not really, although I will next weekend, rotating duty officer, you know. But no, tomorrow I have to get my armor fitted."

"Oh cripes! That's right!" exclaimed Jer. "I nearly forgot about that! I get mine at 1400 tomorrow."

"Oh yeah," said Alby. "Guess I won't be needing a set for myself while I'm detached like this. Although having a set would make cracking heads together a lot easier!" The others laughed. The suits of powered battle armor the assault troops used gave the wearer superhuman strength.

"I hear they're still using the old Model IX suits here," said Jer, looking disappointed.

"Yeah, but as each battalion ships out they're supposed to get the new Model XI armor," said Anny. "3rd Battalion already has theirs, I hear."

"Well that's good, I loved the new model when we were on our cruise last year."

"Yeah, they were really something," agreed Alby. "But come on, time's a-wasting!" They went back outside and the streets were a lot more crowded now. Many of the people were men in uniform, but there were also plenty of other men who were obviously soldiers even though they were wearing civilian clothes. Many of this latter group were accompanied by women and children—married soldiers out with their families. The west side of the town held several large housing tracts with living quarters for the married men and their dependents. They strolled over in that direction and saw that in addition to the houses, there were playgrounds and several schools. They all had a military look to them, but they were neat and tidy.

"I guess things have changed a lot in recent years," said Anny. "My da used to talk about how most soldiers waited until they mustered out before getting married. There was almost no accommodation for married soldiers or ones with children."

"Seems like it would be pretty hard to get men to join up under those conditions," said Jer.

"These days, with all the new factory jobs in the cities, yeah," said Anny. "But this isn't Komarr, Jer. Folks out in the back country are still awful poor compared to most. A lot join up as a way to get away from that. You saw what it was like up in the mountains when we were fighting the fire."

Jer fell silent and Alby felt a twinge of guilt. Anny had come from one of those desperately poor regions. She hadn't joined up to get away from that, but still... Alby thought about the huge mansion he'd grown up in, all the servants…

"Say guys," he said suddenly. Jer and Anny turned their heads toward him. "I know you've been checking out the price on apartments around here. What are they like?"

"Well…" said Anny uncertainly.

"The ones we could afford on our combined salaries are pretty…"

"Awful?" asked Alby.

"Well, yeah… I mean there were a few that didn't look too bad, but they weren't much better than the BOQ—where we can stay for free."

"That's what I figured," said Alby, nodding his head. "Well, I've done some checking, too, and there are a couple of pretty nice houses for rent that are well within my budget and…" He held up his hand to cut off the protests he saw on his friends' faces. "I know you won't accept any offer of mine to stay free, so I'll have to charge you rent. But I'm sure we can come up with a rate that you can afford." He grinned at them.

They exchanged glances. "We'll… we'll have to think about it," said Jer.

"But thank you, Alby," added Anny.

"No problem. I've got a couple of the addresses. We could take a look while we're here."

"Why not? It's a beautiful day," said Jer.

So they called up a map of the town on their computers and made their way to the locations on Alby's list. They _were_ nice houses, set in a part of town with a lot of nice houses and tree-lined streets and paved sidewalks. And it was clear that a number of officers lived here; they saw several men they recognized from the regimental mess out working in their yards.

"What's the monthly rent on a place like this?" asked Jer, pointing at one of the potential properties.

"None of your business," said Alby, smiling. "Your only concern is what rent I'll charge you."

"Alby…" said Anny. "We can't…"

"Why not?"

"Because we have to learn to live within our means! What if you're suddenly transferred to Vorbarr Sultana or… or Sergyar? We can't expect you to keep paying the rent on a place like this when you're not even here!"

"Well, I could…"

"That's not the point!"

"All right! All right! I'll look around for something cheaper," said Alby a bit grumpily.

"There have to be cheaper places," said Jer. "Those officers we saw down the street were both majors from brigade HQ, I think. There must be places for lower ranking sods like us."

Alby used his computer pad to find a few such places and they walked over to take a look. They weren't nearly as nice and the section of town they were in wasn't either. In some ways they looked worse than what they'd seen the enlisted families living in. "Well, I can't say that I like any of these," he snorted. "Are you sure I can't give us a little bit of an upgrade?"

"We'll make you a deal," said Anny. "Why don't you just put your own money aside and pretend you're a poverty-stricken lieutenant like us? No, I mean it. Let's figure out what we can afford combining our three salaries and nothing else."

Alby was skeptical, but agreed to give it a try. "But not right now. It's too nice a day for calculating budgets! Let's head back toward the center of town. It's nearly lunch time." The other two agreed and they started off.

But while they had been standing there, they'd attracted the attention of a few children. Well, in fact, it had been Anny who had attracted their attention. Now a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, called out to her: "Miss? Miss? Are you really a soldier?"

Anny turned and smiled and replied. "Yes, I am."

"Really?" The girl's eyes were very wide.

"No way!" cried an older boy. "They don't let girls in the army!"

"They didn't used to," said Anny. "But they've changed some of the rules and now there are some girls. Over a hundred, actually." Alby reflected that that was stretching the truth a little. There may have been over a hundred women at the Academy, but at this moment there was only one woman soldier—and that was Anny Payne.

"Aw, she's just a med-tech or somethin'" said the boy dismissively.

"Oh no," said Alby. "She's a real soldier. Just a few months ago she was fighting pirates! I saw her myself. She beat the… stuffings out of a whole bunch, all by herself."

"Wow!" cried the little girl. "Someday I'm gonna be a soldier, too!"

"In your dreams, Kara!" snorted the boy.

Anny squatted down and took the girl's hand. "In your dreams for now, but sometimes you can make your dreams real. I did. Of course, you'll have to wait until you're a little older to try." The girl blushed and then ran off, the other children following her. Anny stood up and her eyes were gleaming.

"New recruit?" asked Alby, grinning broadly.

"Who knows?"

"You opened the door for her, Anny," said Jer.

"Let's hope it stays open."

"Come on," said Alby, "let's eat."

[Scene Break]

Anny checked the time, hurriedly finished off her breakfast, and then left the mess hall. In spite of all her intentions, she'd stayed in town until very late yesterday. And then spent another hour or so, very much by intention, awake in Jer's bed before getting to sleep. As a result she'd slept right through reveille and now had to rush to get to the armory on time.

Still, she was smiling. Yesterday had been fun and last night had been, too. Being able to spend time with Jer—in bed and out—was a wonderful thing. Not having to worry about the regulations was a wonderful thing, too.

Or at least she hoped she didn't have to worry.

While there was nothing in the regulations forbidding an officer from taking a lover, the assumption was that it would be a male officer with a female civilian. The notion of a male officer with a female officer was not something the writers of the regulations had considered. Of course, the regulations also didn't consider a male officer with another male officer and while it was quietly acknowledged that such things did occur, the unofficial policy seemed to be to just look the other way and pretend it wasn't happening. Anny sort of hoped the same policy would be followed with her and Jer.

Unless they decided to get married.

In which case they'd want it officially recognized with all the legalities and dependent privileges and… _Oh hell, why does it have to be so damn complicated?_ Her good mood faded somewhat and she put the issue out of her mind.

The regimental armory was a huge building set near the northwest end of the base and it was a solidly built concrete structure rather than wood like the barracks. In addition to heavy weapons and maintenance facilities, it also housed the over two thousand sets of battle armor for the regiment. Anny had to show her ID to get in and then ask directions to get to where the 1st Battalion ordnance sergeant had his office. The interior of the building was divided into a bewildering warren of store rooms, service bays, and offices.

She walked down one long aisle with racks of the power armor on either side of her. The Model XI armor, like she'd used on Dounby, had a sleek, ultra-modern look to it, but these older Model IXs had a hulking, sinister appearance, like trolls or mutants from a fairy tale. With the lights mostly turned off in the building, it was downright creepy. They all seemed to be staring at her…

Up ahead was a more brightly lit area and the noise of activity came to her ears. Activity—and cursing. She came into one of the maintenance bays and saw a half-dozen men working on several suits of battle armor. One of the suits had been almost completely disassembled, with its parts laid out carefully over a few dozen square meters of floor. Two men were bent over it and one of them was the one doing the cursing. For some reason Anny wasn't surprised to see the ordnance sergeant's chevrons on the man's sleeve.

"Dammit, Georg!" he snarled. "When I told you to strip this suit down, I didn't mean this! What the hell were you doing, you idiot!"

"But, Sarge, you said… and I thought…" protested the other man.

"There you go! Thinking again! If I need any thinking done around here I've got computers for that! Now what the hell am I gonna do? This was for that new shavetail frill in C Company! She'll be here any minute and… what are you gawking at? Screw yer eyes back in yer head, man!"

"Uh… I think she's here, Sarge."

The ordnance sergeant spun around and then turned an amazing shade of crimson. Anny tried to keep from smiling—but failed. "Ordnance Sergeant Gadd? I'm Lieutenant Payne." She took a few steps forward and looked over the array of parts on the floor. "And this is for me?"

"It… uh… it was supposed to be. But this idiot went and…! Sorry, Lieutenant, I'll try and find another one that we can…"

"No need for that, Sergeant. We can just put this one back together."

"But… but that will take hours!"

"I'm in no hurry. And I'd really like to see how one of these Model IXs goes together. On my apprentice cruise I got a chance to assemble and prep a bunch of the new Model XIs for the ordnance sergeant there and I'd like to see the differences. Can't ever know too much about how your armor works."

"Well I'll be…" The look of amazement on the man's face was priceless. "All right, why the hell not? Georg, make yourself useful and bring that tool kit over here!"

They got to work.

Taking a brand new suit out of its shipping crate and getting it ready for use was an exacting process that took about thirty man-hours. That was mostly because each of the major components had to be tested. Fortunately, in this case they were just reassembling the suit rather than testing everything. Even so, it took all morning and they were still at it well into the afternoon. Gadd seemed as much surprised by her knowledge of the armor as he was at her willingness to get her hands dirty.

Much of the armor was very similar to what Anny had worked on before, but the big difference was the control system. "So you used that new neural interface system, Lieutenant?" asked Gadd. "I've been studying the tech manuals for when 1st Battalion gets 'em, but you can't tell how the thing actually runs from that. What's it like?"

Anny wiped a bit of sweat off her face with a dirty hand and smiled. "Like a dream, Sarge. It's like you're walking around in your street clothes. Smooth as silk."

"No delay in the response at all?"

"None that I could see—and believe me, I gave my suit a workout."

"Uh, yeah, I heard something about that. So I guess goin' back to this hunk o' junk will be sort of a let down, huh?"

"Oh, I trained on a Model IX at the Academy. Never got to tear one apart like this, though. But this will be okay. 'Course I won't turn down a Model XI when the battalion gets them!" She laughed and so did Gadd. After a moment the man's face grew serious.

"Uh... Lieutenant, I'm sorry about what I said earlier… when I didn't know you were there."

"Well I _am_ a shavetail," she grinned.

"That's not what I… That's not what I meant."

"I've heard worse. A lot worse. Believe me." She held out her hand and after a moment he took it and shook.

They continued working and Gadd didn't even seem too flustered when she showed him how to install the special adapter that allowed her to use the suit's sanitary plumbing with her female anatomy.

"From the sound 'o things I might have to make that gizmo a standard item in the parts inventory."

"I hope so," said Anny with a smile.

Finally the suit was back together and they had to do the adjustments to actually fit it to her body shape. The older suits were controlled by a multitude of pressure-sensitive pads lining the interior that would cause the suit to replicate her movements. They needed to fit snugly to function properly.

"Did you bring your undersuit?" asked Gadd, looking around.

"Wearing it under my fatigues, Sarge."

"Hell! No wonder you're sweating like that!"

"Yeah, didn't quite plan on doing this. But it's okay." She started shucking off her fatigues. The undersuit was a skintight garment that could be worn under a normal space suit or in a suit of battle armor. It had a set of micro-capillaries built into it that could connect to the suit's heating and cooling system. Unconnected, it did tend to get a bit warm.

As she set aside her tunic and trousers she noticed that Gadd's assistant, Georg, was staring at her. Yeah, the suit was really skintight. Really. He saw her looking at him looking at her and turned away hastily. She stepped up to the rear of her armor. The back plates of the torso were open and she hoisted herself inside and let her legs slide down inside the legs of the suit. They'd made some guesses about the proper length to set the legs to and the guess seemed pretty close. "Maybe just a tad too long," she said to Gadd. He nodded and squatted down next to the suit with a power wrench and spun a few of the adjustment bolts. "Whoa, a little too much," said Anny. "Back a bit."

Little by little they made the suit fit. First the legs and then the arms. The torso wasn't as important except for comfort. She was glad to find that the plumbing connection worked. Finally they were ready to power it up and give it a test run. She hit the main power switch and the armor came to life around her. The visor closed and the inside of the helmet became a mass of displays and status read-outs which surrounded the vision slit. These flickered and then filled up with data and messages. When the start-up was complete, she closed the rear of the armor and then walked over to an empty part of the bay and went through a series of movements.

"How's it feel?" asked Gadd when she stopped.

"Not bad. I think we need to lengthen the right forearm by about a centimeter. My fingers felt sort of jammed into the gauntlets."

"Right." The man opened an access panel below the right elbow and went to work with the power wrench. "How's that?"

Anny moved the arm around. "Better. Let me try some more stuff." Gadd stepped back and she proceeded to roll and tumble and fall flat on the floor and crawl around. There was no doubt that the Model IX suit was a tiny bit less responsive than the Model XI, but she was sure she could get used to it again.

Still, the problem with any suit of battle armor was the mass. No matter how responsive the motivators or how strong the mechanical muscles, you still had to allow for the fact that the suit massed three or four times as much as you did. If you gave into the temptation to really use the suit's muscles to their maximum, you could find yourself careening uncontrollably into walls, trees, or your friends. Anny skidded a few times on the smooth floor but managed to avoid any disasters. She and Gadd made a few more minor adjustments to her suit and then she was satisfied.

She opened the visor on the helmet. "I think that about does it, Sarge. You want me to park it over in its rack or do you want to do any more work on it?"

"No, you can put 'er in the rack when we're done, but you still need to pick out your side-arm."

"My what?"

The man grinned. "That's right, you probably haven't heard about that, have you? Come on over here."

Gadd walked down an aisle between bins of spare parts and Anny followed, the feet of her suit clunking loudly on the floor despite the padded soles. The ordnance sergeant came to a large storage cabinet and swung open the doors and stood back. "Here you go, Lieutenant, take your pick."

Anny gawked at the contents of the cabinet. She'd been expecting some sort of energy weapons modified for the large gauntlets of a suit of armor, but instead she saw what looked like a collection from some museum of pre-gunpowder weapons from the Time of Isolation. War hammers, maces, battle axes, all way too large for a man to use, hung in rows from strong brackets.

"What is this?" she demanded.

"Something Colonel Fetherbay came up with a few years ago. For close combat."

Anny reached out and grasped the handle of one of the weapons, a mace she guessed you'd call it, and pulled it free from its bracket. "This thing must weigh fifteen kilos!" she exclaimed, hefting it.

"Closer to twenty," said Gadd. "It's got a depleted uranium core. Just the thing for opening a can in close quarters."

"Yeah… yeah, I could have used one of these six months ago…" The more Anny thought about it, the more sense it made. Modern battle armor wasn't just a powered suit of armored plates. Most suits had sophisticated shielding that could defeat nearly any man-portable energy weapons—at least for a while. The only things that could penetrate them were things like hyper-velocity rail guns and special types of needle grenades. But they were large, clumsy weapons not well-suited for close action on shipboard. In fact, the rail guns were a real menace aboard ship: a miss could send a projectile tearing its way clear through a ship, doing untold damage.

So during boarding actions it often came down literally to hand-to-hand combat with the armored behemoths battering each other to junk. Anny had done exactly that to three opponents on the planet Dounby during her apprentice cruise. But she'd been forced to improvise the weapons she used… "You say Colonel Fetherbay came up with this?"

"Well, I heard that he got the idea from something he'd read about the Cetagandans using stuff like this… or maybe it was the Nuevo Brasilians, I don't remember. But he had the armorers start making these things. The boys seem to like them."

She made a few practice swings with the mace and then put it back. She started to reach for one of the battle axes. "Uh, wait, Lieutenant," said Gadd. "Should have mentioned: you need special training before you're allowed one of those. They've got mono-molecular edges. Real easy to slice through stuff you don't intend."

"Yeah, I guess it would be." She shifted her gaze, looking over the rows of deadly objects. She finally selected one. It was a massive hammer with one blunt end and the other with a nasty-looking spike sticking out. She stepped back and gave the thing a try. The powerful servos in her armor allowed her to move the hammer around like it was a twig, but she could sense the impact it would have if she struck something with it.

"Good choice," said Gadd. "You can pound or you can puncture something."

"This is going to take some practice…"

"You'll get it, I'm sure. But if that's the one you want, then I guess we are done here, Lieutenant."

_Meaning I've wasted enough of your valuable time today. _Anny smiled and managed to clip her hammer to a clamp on the side of her armor without any help. But then she needed Gadd to show her where to park her suit. The racks were laid out by battalion, company and platoon and she wasn't sure where 3rd Platoon, C Company was located. He delegated his assistant, Georg, to show her. She scooped up her fatigues and followed the man into the storage area.

After she parked her suit and emerged from the rear of it, she saw that Georg was still there. "You impressed the hell out of the Sarge, you know," he said.

"Oh?"

"Most of the officers—the men too, for that matter—don't know shit about the suits and don't care, neither. Oh, they know how to use 'em and do field maintenance and all, but nothing like you did just now."

Anny shrugged as she pulled on her fatigues. "Like I said: you can never know too much about the things you're depending on to keep you alive. Maybe I should suggest to the Colonel that everyone should get some more in-depth instruction on battle armor."

"The Sarge would probably like that," said Georg with a grin.

"Okay, thanks for your help, see you later." Anny took her leave and managed to find her way out of the armory without getting lost. It was mid-afternoon and her stomach was growling. She'd missed lunch. She wondered if she could wheedle a snack out of the people in the mess hall. First, though, she wanted to get back to her quarters and take off her undersuit and get a shower.

Or maybe she'd head over to the officer's gym and work out a little first. It was amazing to have so many options.

Decisions, decisions…


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"**A**ll right, let's go!" cried Jer Naddel, as the rear ramp on the assault shuttle crashed down. The men of his platoon surged forward in their battle armor. A few, the first ones out, carried only normal infantry gear; these spread out to form a perimeter. Most, however, were burdened with the heavy weapons and equipment that gave H Company its purpose.

Assault regiments were organized like ordinary infantry regiments: three battalions, each battalion with three 'rifle' companies and one heavy weapons company. The regiment also had some other assets like supply, medical, and sappers directly attached to it. Regular regiments had all that, too, but they would normally be attached to divisions and the divisions had all manner of heavy equipment including artillery and tanks to support the infantry.

But assault regiments usually operated independently and their 'logistical train' and support were much smaller. They were meant to be self-sufficient and highly mobile, able to fight on their own without the heavy support that normal regiments had. In a planetary assault they would be the first ones down, charged with securing a landing zone so that the other troops could follow.

The thing that allowed them to do this, of course, was their battle armor. A trooper in a powered suit was better protected, faster, and more heavily armed than any ordinary infantryman could hope to be. Some people had romantically likened it to an armored knight on an armored charger compared to a peasant foot soldier. It wasn't a fair comparison since even an unarmored infantryman was a highly skilled and deadly warrior; still it got the idea across. If it weren't for the enormous expense of the battle armor, everyone would probably wear them.

Still, even with their battle armor, the assault troopers needed some of the heavy support that the normal infantry had. This was where the weapons companies came in. They carried the most powerful weapons that could still be light and mobile enough to accompany an assault regiment.

The shuttles had dropped them off in a rugged and uninhabited mountain valley that the regiment used for firing exercises. Unlike the areas close to the fort, most of the valley had not been terraformed. Broad swaths were covered by the red and brown Barrayaran vegetation—or at least they were where they hadn't been torn to shreds by heavy weapons fire. "First squad, over there! Second squad, in those rocks! Third squad, with me!" commanded Jer. Today's activities would be primarily target practice, but they were supposed to act as though enemy troops were in the vicinity and act accordingly. And despite all their high-tech devices, one of the best defensive tactics was still the ancient one of finding some fat rocks to hide behind and keep your fool head down!

The first two squads carried a mix of heavy plasma arcs, man-portable rail guns and missile launchers. The third squad was equipped with even heavier weapons mounted on float-sleds. Jer led these down into a sheltered gully while the rest of his platoon deployed. A glance at the tactical display in his helmet showed him that the other two platoons of the company were also moving into position. First Platoon was equipped with rocket launchers and mortars to provide long-range indirect fire support. Second Platoon was the air defense platoon. They had automated lasers, rail guns, and missiles that were all supposed to defend the battalion from enemy aircraft, artillery, and missiles. Sometimes they did.

Jer's platoon was labeled the "Anti-Tank Platoon" but in reality it could have been better called the 'direct fire support platoon'. Yes, their primary function was to take out enemy armored vehicles, but from everything Jer had read, he could expect to be called upon to use his heavy weapons against any target the infantry couldn't handle on their own.

"H Company platoons, report your status." Captain Andronov's voice came over the command circuit. Jer glanced around and his troopers seemed to be where he wanted them. The platoon sergeant, a man named Shusterman, gave him a 'thumbs up'.

"Third Platoon, in position," he said. A few moments later the other two platoon commanders, Lieutenant Vorkerkas and Ensign Vorledge, reported the same. Jer was pleased that he'd been first, but he had to admit that the missile and air defense equipment were more clumsy to move around than his own.

"Very good," said Andronov. "Mr. Naddel, you're up first. Simulated targets will become active in sixty seconds. Get your men ready."

"Yes sir!" He switched to the platoon circuit, silently cursing when it took him two attempts. Damn, he really missed the neural interface! With the new suits all you had to do was think: _Platoon Circuit_ and you got it. With the older suit he had to focus his eye on the appropriate box in the heads-up display projected on the inside of his helmet and tap a button inside the finger of his suit to make the choice. "Third Platoon, listen up! Target exercise will begin in forty-five seconds. Remember, this is not a free for all! Check what you are shooting at! First and second squads, don't waste your fire on heavy targets, third squad don't waste _your_ fire on light ones. And pay attention to the IFF beacons! Sometimes they'll throw in a friendly just to trip us up." At least they'd done that to him a few times at the Academy…

"Attention Company," came Andronov's voice over the general circuit. "Weapons are free, repeat, weapons are free. Confirm one-quarter power on all weapons."

Jer called up the master status display for his platoon, but before he could even check it out Sergeant Shusterman informed him that all weapons were set at one-quarter power. Well, that _was_ part of his job after all. Jer confirmed the power setting to Andronov. Even at one-quarter power the weapons would still obliterate an un-armored man, but the reduced levels would save wear and tear on the equipment.

The exercise began. In many ways it was like some of the video games he'd played as a kid. Colored icons appeared on the tactical display inside his helmet and the idea was to blast them as quickly as possible. Of course the big difference here was that while the targets weren't real, the weapons certainly were! The first blips appeared on his tactical display and Jer briefly stood on tip-toes to peer over the edge of the gully. The blips were also superimposed on his view of the valley. His sensors identified them as a half-dozen light recon vehicles, skimming along from left to right across his front.

"First squad, those are yours," he said. "Commence firing." The words were scarcely out of his mouth before his men opened up. Dazzling blasts from the plasma arcs—automatically dimmed down to a safe level in his visual display—and the thunderbolt crack of the rail guns assaulted his senses. Donner and Blitzen the boys called them. The missile launchers, in contrast, were relatively quiet. The target icons started to wink out and in a few moments they were all gone. Almost immediately another group appeared, this time from the right and moving left. Jer gave the command for his second squad to engage them. They'd made plans earlier to divide the target area up into two zones with each squad taking a zone and not firing at targets in the other zone unless specifically ordered to.

The second batch of targets was dispatched and then two more groups appeared at once and both squads had to engage. Jer suspected that, just like a video game, things would get faster and the targets more numerous until it would be impossible to get them all. Not terribly realistic—or fair—but it would force his troopers to respond with every bit of speed and precision that they could muster.

Things went on well enough for a few minutes. The squad sergeants assigned targets, while the gunners aimed and fired. Other men in the squads scampered back to the gully where the float sleds were waiting to grab spare power packs and take them back to the gunners. So far nothing had gotten through. A thin haze of smoke and vaporized rock drifted up from the valley in the cool morning air.

Then a new blip appeared and it was bigger than the others and it flashed red on Jer's display. "Check fire! Check fire!' said Jer urgently. "Heavy target! Third Squad, it's yours!" The newcomer was reading as a medium tank, not as formidable as one of the Mark XXIs that the 283rd boasted, but still big enough to mount a full plasma mirror and other shielding. The plasma mirrors on their battle armor were capable of deflecting a bolt from a plasma arc, but the ones on a spaceship—or a tank—could actually redirect the bolt back against the ship or person who fired it. If Jer's heavy plasma arc men in the first and second squads fired at the tank they could well end up frying themselves—if the tank had been real.

No, this was a job for the rail guns. The heavy rail guns. He had two of them on the float sleds of third squad and now they went into action. The targeting information was fed into them while they were still out of sight in the gully and then on command the pair rose up until they were just high enough to draw a line of sight to the target. In unison they each let off a round. Even at just one-quarter power there was a concussion powerful enough to be felt even inside a suit of armor. Jer had turned down the volume on his external microphones, but the sonic boom still seemed loud. The recoil pushed both float sleds back sharply and they instantly sank down into the gully to evade any return fire—not that there would be any.

The target icon winked out. Jer doubted that just two shots would have been enough to do that against a real target, but wasn't the point of this exercise. "Good shooting," he complimented the gunners.

More targets appeared and they engaged them appropriately. Had this been a real battle, they'd have a ridiculously high kill total. But in a real battle, it wouldn't be this easy. _Just target practice._

But the targets kept coming in greater and greater numbers and some of the heavy targets did require multiple shots to eliminate. Jer had to start personally directing some of the fire, ordering one squad to help the others if they were threatened with being overwhelmed. A few targets did start slipping through, getting beyond their firing area intact, but so far only a few.

But then a new wave of targets appeared and there were just too many to stop. Jer was sweating and snapping out orders when Captain Andronov's voice came over his communicator. "First Platoon, it looks like Third Platoon could use some help. You are ordered to engage."

Only a few seconds later there was a roar off to his left and Jer saw missiles streaking into the air from a fat clump of skellytums about five hundred meters away. Explosions started to erupt in the valley. Flashes, fireballs, huge gouts of smoke leaping upward. Targets started winking out in large numbers, but not all of them. "No one said to cease fire!" snapped Jer over his platoon circuit. "Keep at 'em!" His men opened up again, picking off the ones who survived the barrage.

They managed to beat off this wave, but more were coming. Working with the artillery Jer and his platoon fended them off, but it wasn't easy. Jer glanced at two of the float sleds, the ones where they stored the mines. He wished they had time to plants some of _those_, but for this exercise they weren't allowed to.

It went on for another fifteen minutes and then a new message arrived: "Incoming! We have incoming fire! Second platoon engage!" A swarm of fast moving blips was on Jer's tactical display, closing rapidly on the company's position. Jer had no time to see what the Air Defense Platoon was doing since there was no let-up in the number of ground attackers still coming on, but the new swarm of blips diminished in number rapidly so clearly they were doing something.

Another ten minutes went by and Jer felt exhausted even though he had done little but crouch in the gully and issue orders. Sergeant Shusterman was circulating between the squads, but Jer stayed put like he was supposed to.

Finally they got a break and the attacks dwindled to almost nothing. Were they done? No, not quite.

"Oh crap," hissed Jer. Nine large blips appeared on his sensors. Heavy tanks. None of the company's weapons were likely able to hurt them. What was he supposed to do?

"Okay, time to go people," said Andronov suddenly. "Our shuttles are inbound and we will withdraw. Second platoon will go first, First platoon will deliver a full salvo to cover us and then they go. Mr. Naddel, you will be the last to pull out. Give a full-power volley with your guns and then scram. Everyone understand?"

"Yes sir!" _Full power? Yee ha!_ He'd never had a chance to do that before!

New blips were appearing on his display and for once they denoted things that really existed: the assault shuttles coming to pick them up. Nine of them all told, three for each platoon. "Plasma and missile men, fall back for pick-up! Rail gunners, set your weapons for full power." A chorus of acknowledgements came over his com. The rail gunners sounded as excited as he felt.

But First Platoon got the first crack. A salvo of missiles, much larger than any of the others streaked away from their position and a few moments later the whole valley disappeared in flame and smoke. Shuttles were landing now and Jer's tactical display showed Second Platoon disappearing into them. First Platoon, their job done, was falling back to their shuttles, too. Sergeant Shusterman was ushering the spare float sleds back toward where Third Platoon's shuttles were landing. Like clockwork.

"All right, stand by…" said Jer.

"Fire!"

The rail guns let loose and their thunderbolts made the prior fire seem like a handful of firecrackers. The incredibly powerful magnetic fields inside the guns accelerated the three-kilogram slugs up to a velocity of almost two hundred kilometers per second. As the rounds left the guns their outer layers instantly began to vaporize from air friction. A pair of bright red beams of light appeared, linking the guns to the cliffs at the far end of the valley. Two large explosions blasted outward from those cliffs and a small avalanche of stone came sliding down. A batch of smaller explosions accompanied the first two as the rail gunners from the other two squads joined in. _Wow…_

"Time to go, sir,' said Sergeant Shusterman, who had materialized next to him.

"Right! Okay, that's it! Fall back! Get aboard!" His men started dashing to the rear and the crews of the two heavy rail guns directed the float sleds toward the waiting shuttles. Despite his elation at all the mayhem he'd unleashed, Jer grimly reflected that if there had _really_ been a battalion of heavy tanks in that valley, then every one of these assault shuttles would be blasted out of the sky before they could get a kilometer away. Oh well, this had been fun anyway.

Jer was the last one aboard and the shuttle lifted off even before the rear ramp was closed. He had to grab the shoulder of one of his men to keep from falling out. He staggered over to a seat and strapped himself in. "Well done, everyone," he said. Jer was still getting to know the men of his platoon, but they seemed to be in high spirits. Nothing like blowing shit up to put a trooper in a good mood!

Fifteen minutes later they landed at the base and the next three hours were spent in checking and storing their equipment, changing into their fatigues and then, for the officers and NCOs, getting debriefed by Captain Andronov. The captain seemed moderately pleased at their performance, but naturally had criticisms and corrections for each of them. Jer had learned to never take such things personally and just filed the information away for future use.

After that, he spent the rest of the afternoon in the company office composing his own after-action report of the day's exercise. He thought it had gone well, although he had to admit that with no one shooting back at them, its value was limited. And, of course they couldn't do things like this very often due to the expense. He'd noticed the skepticism of some of the officers about the new simulator facility that Alby was working on, but the simulators were far more realistic than what they'd done today. And considering that they'd shot off about a hundred thousand marks worth of ordnance in the exercise, there would have to be some savings over the long run. _I wonder how Alby's making out with that?_

[Scene Break]

"If you put the roof panels on now it will restrict access to the data raceways!"

"If I don't start putting the roof panels on now your damn raceways will be full of snow instead of cables!"

"Snow? It won't be snowing for months!"

"All right, rain then. We have to get the building weather-tight before the bad weather comes! I'd think you'd want to keep all your fancy gear dry."

"Can't you rig some waterproof tarps or something?"

"There's nothing in my budget to cover that!"

"Well, there's nothing in _my_ budget to cover the extra hours it will take to lay the cables if the roof panels are in the way!"

Alby sighed silently and tried to resist the urge to reach across the table and crack a couple of heads together. This seemed like a daily ritual: the manager in charge of constructing the simulator building and the manager in charge of installing the simulators at loggerheads over one point or another. Alby glanced at Lieutenant Pflugfelter, the guy who was supposed to be in charge of the entire project. As usual, he was just sitting there, doing nothing to straighten things out. Of course Alby had to admit that since both of the managers were civilians, there was a limit to what Pflugfelter could do.

"Perhaps the Quartermaster could lend us some tarps and the engineers could rig them up," suggested Alby.

"I don't know…" said Pflugfelter, looking uncertain.

"Why not?" persisted Alby. "I see them doing it all the time to protect piles of equipment out by the landing fields. Everything in that building is government property, and if it needs protection from the elements this ought to be routine."

"Uh, the engineers don't have the security clearance to be on the work site."

"Oh, so that's why we have civilian workers doing this? Can't trust the military?" Alby let the irony drip into his voice, but Pflugfelter seemed oblivious.

"The regulations don't make any exceptions."

Alby rolled his eyes. There was nothing secret about any of this technology. It was commonplace throughout the Wormhole Nexus. "Well, perhaps if the Quartermaster can supply the tarp, Mr. Hale's boys can rig them up and give Mr. Klemperer's people the time they need on those raceways?" He nodded toward the two contractors.

They argued and kicked it around for a half hour before finally agreeing, but in the end they did agree and the meeting wrapped up—with half a dozen other items on the agenda untouched. Pflugfelter seemed pleased. "I thought that went pretty well, don't you think?"

"Better than a lot of our meetings, yeah," admitted Alby.

"How are you coming on your software review?"

"I had it finished a week ago. Now we just need some hardware to install it in."

"It'll get here, don't worry." As far as Alby could see, Pflugfelter had no real desire to see the project completed. It was a cushy job and once it _was_ done it would go down in his records as a successful project. He found the man's attitude exasperating at times.

"Well, almost quitting time," said Alby. "See you tomorrow."

"Stay a minute, Vorsworth," said Pflugfelter, raising his hand. "Been meaning to talk to you. You're pretty tight with that Payne girl, aren't you?"

"We've been friends since our plebe year," replied Alby cautiously.

"Friends or _friends_?" asked Pflugfelter, not quite leering.

"What the hell do you mean by that? Sir." Alby frowned at the man.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just been hearing some pretty… interesting rumors."

"Like what?"

"Oh like that she _slept_ her way through the Academy, if you know what I mean."

Alby's mouth fell open and his hands were clenched in fists. "That's a damn lie! Sir."

"Really? I've got it from a reliable source that she's sleeping with that Komarran fellow."

"That… that started after they graduated," sputtered Alby. "Nothing against the regulations in that!"

"Huh, well, if you say so, Vorsworth. I suppose you'd be in a position to know."

"She was an outstanding cadet—and a hero! And now she's a damn fine officer! You can tell _that_ to your 'reliable source'!"

"Calm down, old man! Not trying to start an argument. Was just curious, that's all. Well, see you tomorrow." Pflugfelter sauntered off, leaving Alby fuming.

[Scene Break]

Jer was on his way back to his quarters to get ready for dress parade. He'd finished his report and sent it off to the Captain. He hadn't seen Anny all day and she wasn't there now, either. He knew that they'd been incredibly lucky to be assigned to the same regiment, but their luck had run out about being assigned to the same battalion. Their duties would often keep them apart and it was only going to get worse. 1st Battalion—and Anny—were scheduled to be assigned ship duty next year and she might be gone for six or eight months. And then after she got back, his own battalion would probably ship out. They might not see each other for a year or more. He didn't like that at all.

Well, he reminded himself as he did often, that he hadn't joined the Imperial Forces in order to fall in love. He and Anny would just have to take what time they were given and be grateful for it.

He did see her for a few moments before dress parade but they had no time to talk. The parade was routine except that at the end, when Colonel Fetherbay was addressing the officers he said: "Oh, as I'm sure most of you have heard, the reservists of the 139th will be arriving the week after next for their annual refresher training. As usual things will be a bit of a madhouse and we may be asked to provide assistance on short notice. I'm also informed that Brigadier Vorsilva is planning a major exercise with the whole brigade as part of the 139th's stay here. I don't have any details of that yet, but I will keep you posted. All right, that's all for now, dismissed."

As the formation broke up, Anny had to dash off somewhere. She said she'd see him at dinner. He hadn't seen Alby at the parade at all, so Jer joined the general clump of officers heading for the mess. They were all discussing the upcoming arrival of the reservists.

"Ah yes, the circus is coming to town, gentlemen!" said Lieutenant Haskell of F Company. "Two-headed chickens and dancing bears will be in the streets!" Jer laughed along with the others, but then he asked:

"Will it be as bad as all that?"

"Who said anything about it being bad?" quipped another officer. "It'll be the most fun we see here all year."

"The troops themselves aren't all that bad," said Captain Voring, the commander of E Company. "At least the younger ones who haven't been away from the regulars all that long. No, what Mr. Haskell was referring to was all the camp followers who will be flocking into the town. It seems like half the troops bring their families with them for the month. Like it was some damn vacation. They set up tent cities on the outskirts."

"And not just the families!" exclaimed someone else. "Gamblers, hucksters, and half the frills on the planet show up to ply their trade with the troops who _don't_ bring their families."

"That's probably why most of the women follow their men here," chuckled Haskell, "to keep them away from the frills!" Everyone laughed again.

"Some of the girls aren't bad, I hear" ventured an ensign from G Company. "At least a change from the batch that live in town."

"Planning to give them a try?"

"Why not?" said someone else. "Considering how few prospects we poor unmarried men find here in the wilderness and with Vorbarr Sultana so far away, we quite look forward to this."

A flurry of ribald comments followed that had them all laughing. Well, nearly all, some of the married officers whose wives had come to see the dress parade as they often did had drifted away from their raucous unmarried comrades.

They reached the Regimental Mess and went inside. Jer got a beer and stood near the bar and waited for Anny to arrive. The cost of belonging to the mess was not trivial, but at least it almost guaranteed that he and Anny would share at least one meal a day. The other officers were milling about, drinking, and still making jokes about the upcoming arrival of the reservists and their camp followers. Jer had to admit that it did sound like quit a show.

"Of course we won't be needin' the local frills much longer!" said one overly loud voice. "I hear they'll be issuin' us our own before long!" Jer looked and saw that it was Lieutenant Vorkerkas, the commander of 1st Platoon in his own H Company. The man was looking right at him and Jer froze. "Right, Naddel?"

A few men laughed, but it died away and the general noise level in the mess dropped off to almost nothing. Jer met Vorkerkas' eyes for a few moments longer and then turned away, hoping he'd just misunderstood, but fearing he hadn't.

"Don't turn your back on me, Komarran!" said Vorkerkas. "I asked you a question!" Jer turned back to face him.

"Hey, calm down, Adrien," said another man who slapped Vorkerkas on the shoulder but the man shook him off. He'd clearly wasted no time downing a few drinks and he wasn't drinking beer. It had been pretty obvious to Jer during the last few weeks that the man didn't particularly like him, but he'd never given him any trouble before either. What was this?

"I asked Naddel a question and I expect an answer!"

Jer glanced around the room, but all the senior officers seemed to have disappeared. "I… I'm afraid I don't understand the lieutenant's question," said Jer as evenly as he could.

"It's simple enough: as the first man in the regiment to be issued his own frill, I just wanted to know how she is. I imagine she must be _very_ experienced after four years at the Academy." Vorkerkas had a leer on his face. "I hear they're training a whole lot more. I hope they don't forget us when they start handing them out!"

Jer was well aware that 'frill' was the Barrayaran equivalent of 'whore', but somehow the word didn't have the same sort of power. Even so, he was furious inside. This jackass had just called Anny a whore! He supposed that by this time pretty much everyone knew that he and Anny were sleeping together, but he hadn't expected anything like this! He slowly set his glass on the bar and clenched his fists…

"Lieutenant Vorkerkas, if your remarks are in reference to Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

Everyone twitched—including Jer, because the words weren't his, although they nearly had been. Alby Vorsworth had silently entered the mess and now he was standing a few meters from Vorkerkas and he looked as furious as Jer felt. Vorkerkas spun around and goggled at Alby for a moment. Finally he said: "Beat it, Vorsworth. This is none of your business."

"When you insult a fellow officer—and my friend—I'll make it my business. You owe Lieutenant Naddel and Lieutenant Payne an apology."

Vorkerkas snorted derisively. "I'll see you in hell first."

"That can be arranged." Alby took a step forward, looking angrier than Jer had ever seen him. His own anger was still there, but it took back seat to his amazement at Alby's words and actions.

"Okay, that's enough!" said Captain Andronov, coming forward. "Simmer down, both of you!"

Alby still looked angry, but he backed off a step. Vorkerkas sniffed and said: "What's with you, Vorsworth? You screwing her, too?"

Alby gave an angry cry and flung himself at Vorkerkas, but he was intercepted and held back by several of the other officers. "Shut up, you bastard!" This set Vorkerkas off and he lunged forward until he too was restrained.

"All right! All right! What the devil is going on here?" Jer looked and saw that Major Waski had appeared and was pushing his way through the crowd. "Well?" he demanded when he reached the front. There was an awkward silence.

"Uh, nothing, sir, nothing going on at all," said Jer.

"Good! Keep it that way!" snapped Waski. Jer moved over and took Alby by the arm and led him away. The other officers relaxed and dispersed. Vorkerkas sent a nasty glare his way, but Jer ignored it.

"That miserable son-of-a-bitch!" hissed Alby. "How dare he talk about Anny that way!" He stared at Jer. "And how come I'm not holding you back instead of vice versa?"

"Well, you were doing such a good job I didn't want to get in your way." He continued to haul Alby toward the door but stopped in his tracks when he saw Anny standing in front of him. She had a look of great confusion on her face.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later."

[Scene Break]

"I was afraid something like this might happen."

Jer looked at Anny, snuggled against him, and ran his hand down her bare shoulder and along her arm. Her face was very serious and that wasn't right considering what they'd just been doing. "Well, there's not much we can do about it now. Even if we stopped seeing each other everyone would assume we still were."

"I don't want to stop seeing you. And it's no one's business if we do!"

"No, it isn't. Still, I can see why some of them might be upset."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, the prospects of finding female companionship on the edge of the wilderness aren't very good and here I am bunking with the most beautiful woman in the known universe. Might tend to make them a tad jealous." That got a smile out of her and Jer grinned and kissed her. But then her smile faded again and she let out a long sigh.

"All those years at the Academy, acting like the Maiden of the Lake, I had just hoped that once we were graduated… hell. Guess I should have known better."

"You're still blazing the trail, Anny, and I guess you always will be," said Jer, holding her a little closer. "Everything you do will always be a first. First woman at the Academy, first woman in combat, first woman decorated for gallantry… first woman officer with a lover…"

"First woman officer to get married?" Anny's green eyes were very large and staring right into his.

"Are you proposing to me?"

"I…" she looked away. "No, not… not yet."

"Well don't wait too long or Alby and Abbie will beat us to it and your record will be broken!" He laughed and after a moment she did, too.

"Do you want to get married?" she asked.

"To you? Yes. Right now? I'm not sure."

She clutched him tightly and rubbed her face against his chest for a moment and then pulled back to look at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For not… demanding anything from me." He didn't say anything but he smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"I do want to marry you, Jer, it's just that… that…"

"Your career comes first. I understand."

"Oh, it sounds so selfish when you put it that way, but yes, I guess there's no getting around it."

"Anny, you don't have to make any apologies. Not to me. I saw what you had to go through at the Academy, saw how hard you fought and how you'd never give up no matter what all the jerks tried to do to get you to quit. Why do you think I love you so much, girl? I'm sure not going to expect you to give it up now. Not for anyone… even me. I can wait. I waited for four years and I can wait for four more. Or forty if that's what it takes."

"I hope it won't be that long! But right now… I've looked over every word of the regulations concerning married personnel and it's all so damn vague! Naturally they are all written with the idea of a male soldier and a female spouse, but there's all this stuff in there about keeping wives and dependents out of combat zones. It makes sense if there are no women soldiers, but if someone was really out to get me, they could use those same regs to get me banned from any sort of combat duty if I was married. Maybe I'm just paranoid…"

"Not that you have any reason to be!" snorted Jer.

Anny responded with a snort of her own. "Yeah. But anyway, right now I just don't know if we can risk it, Jer."

"Like I said: I can wait if you can. And once some of the other women start getting their commissions, the regulations are going to have to get clarified eventually."

"Yeah… do you think there will be any more trouble like you had with Vorkerkas tonight?"

"Hard to say. Alby had a run-in early today with his co-worker, but he said it wasn't serious. Have you had any trouble at your end about this?"

"Not so far. Of course now I'm going to be looking at everything everyone says looking for hidden meanings…"

"Yeah. But you know there is one thing we _could_ do."

"What?"

"Get off the base. Out of the BOQ. Get a place in town even if we do have to allow Alby to subsidize it."

Anny sighed. "Yes, that might be best. It won't solve all the problems, but it still might be best. Let's talk to him."

"In the morning," said Jer, pulling her close again.

"Yes, in the morning."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**T**he blade flashed past Anny's face as she twisted aside. Before she could recover, another attack came at her and she barely managed to beat it away with her own sword. Her opponent was fast and skilled and he knew he had her off balance. The attacks came faster and faster and Anny fell back, desperately fending them off, but with no chance to counterattack. She was strong and with great reflexes, but she had little experience in this sort of fighting. Her opponent's blade was like some living thing, moving almost faster than she could see. Sweat trickled down the side of her face and she retreated step by step.

Finally the inevitable happened and the blunt tip of her opponent's blade slid past her defenses and jabbed her solidly in the thick padding of her jacket. A buzzer sounded inside her safety helmet and she lowered her sword with a sigh of frustration. "Well done, ensign," she said. "A good touch."

"You didn't do bad yourself," said Ensign Vorgard. "For a beginner." He pulled off his helmet and grinned at her.

"You've only been with the regiment a little over a year yourself. You've sure learned a lot in that time!"

"Oh, my da had me taking fencing lessons before I was ten, Lieutenant," said Vorgard making an elaborate sweep of his blade. "I didn't pick this all up here!"

"Ah, I see," said Anny feeling a bit better. "Then I shall count myself fortunate getting lessons from you."

"My pleasure, sir." Vorgard made a formal salute with the sword. "Same time next week?"

"Uh, sure. See you then." Vorberg nodded at her and headed for the locker rooms. Anny went over to one of the benches and sat down, watching the other pairs working out. _Fencing! _When she'd been with the 42nd Infantry, they had been close-combat-mad and had competitions and a regimental champion and Anny had assumed that the 61st would be the same. Wrong! Here it was fencing. Or they called it fencing, but it was not just swords; they competed with a wide variety of edged and non-edged weapons. Foils, epees, sabres, battle axes, quarterstaffs, halberds, you name it. And it wasn't just ritualized combat like she was doing here, some of it was serious: combat training in power armor with toned-down versions of the hammers and maces the ordnance sergeant had shown her.

That meant this was all mandatory. Not just the training, but the other competitive fencing, too. Two nights each week, the officers' gymnasium was converted to a fencing salle. Everyone was expected to participate and anyone with any real skill had to be on the teams that the regiment boasted. There were competitions and tournaments with other regiments and with teams from private clubs and schools. It had been like that at the Academy with the sports teams, too, of course. Soccer, thugby, crossball, and fencing, too, there were teams for all of them. But for some reason no one had even asked Anny to try out for those teams and for once she had been more than happy to be excluded. She had had better things to do with her time. Poor Patric Mederov had been a natural for thugby and he'd nearly flunked out due to demands it had put on his time.

But here in the 61st it was a matter of regimental tradition. The original Vorlinton Guards, centuries earlier, had once made a legendary bayonet charge which had broken the enemy and won the battle and forever after they'd prided themselves in that. It was the whole 'give them the cold steel!' thing and there was no escaping it. Anny wasn't even sure she wanted to escape it. She'd only had a few sessions so far but it did look like some of it might be fun. More fun than close-combat, anyway. And she had been looking for a way to become a part of things…

"Care to give me a touch, Lieutenant?" Anny looked to her right and saw several men in fencing gear looking back at her. The one who'd spoken looked familiar somehow.

She stood up. "Uh, sure, Mister…"

"Vorkerkas, Adrien Vorkerkas at your service." He made a tiny bow. A chill went through Anny. This was the jerk who'd nearly started a fight with Jer and Alby a few days earlier. Somehow she couldn't believe this was just a chance encounter. But it was too late to back out now. Vorkerkas led the way to an unoccupied _piste_ and Anny followed. For some reason a half-dozen other men trailed along. _I don't think I like this…_

They took their positions and immediately Vorkerkas attacked. She managed to fend him off for a while but eventually he scored on her with a hard thrust. Her jacket was padded, but it still hurt a bit. She'd been told that the padding was deliberately left thin enough to punish the fencer when scored upon. "Well done," she said.

"You'd do better if you kept your elbow more in line with your body," suggested one of the watchers with a grin.

"I think he's right," said Vorkerkas. "Again?"

Were they looking for her to give up and quit? "Why not?"

They went at it again and she managed to hold him off longer this time, but he still scored on her in the end. "Best of five?" asked Vorkerkas. She nodded. The next round Anny found her rhythm and did better, attacking as well as defending. This seemed to surprise Vorkerkas and he was surprised even more when she darted her foil past him to score a touch. This produced several guffaws from the audience, which had grown.

"Two to one," said Anny.

"Yes," said Vorkerkas. "En garde."

This round went on quite a while with Anny and her opponent advancing and retreating up and down the _piste_. He was clearly much more experienced, but she had an edge in speed and reflexes, she thought. And several times he could have scored on her except that he made exaggerated lunges that delayed him just long enough for her to twist aside. But if they had landed… was he deliberately trying to hurt her? She watched for him to do it again. When he did, she was ready. She deflected his thrust and then instantly counterattacked and scored. "Two-all," she said, trying not to grin.

"Yes," said Vorkerkas, stepping back. "For the match, then." He came at her again. Back and forth they went, thrusting and parrying. Then Vorkerkas lunged again. Anny partially deflected his blade but it caught her on the upper arm and a jolt of pain yanked a gasp from her as his sword bent nearly double. The speaker in her helmet gave a sharp ping instead of a buzz.

"Not a touch, Adrien," chuckled one of the watchers. "Outside the target zone. Still Two-all."

Vorkerkas stepped away and saluted with his weapon. "You're quite good with the foil, Lieutenant. But I prefer the sabre, myself. Are you game?"

Anny hesitated. The sabre was a different weapon with a different set of rules. You could score with the sides of the blade, not just the point, and the whole body above the waist was a legal target. She'd only tried the sabre a few times in her earlier sessions.

"Of course, I understand if you'd rather not. The sabre really is a man's weapon." Vorkerkas was smirking now.

Anny rubbed her arm and frowned. She'd faced shit like this at the Academy often enough to recognize it. He was deliberately goading her. And he could probably make mincemeat out of her with a sabre. She should just claim fatigue and walk away… _Damn it… _"I'd be happy to give it a try, sir."

"Good! Good!" He grinned broadly and one of the officers produced a pair of sabres almost instantly. Obviously this had been planned. But why? She glanced around at the watching officers. No one from her company, no one that she knew very well… _Wait, there's Sven Estaban…_ The man she'd met her first day here was looking at her with an odd expression. When he saw her looking at him, he turned and moved quickly away. "Ready?" asked Vorkerkas.

She squared off and Vorkerkas came at her. She decided to concentrate strictly on the defense for now and initially she was successful. Vorkerkas' sword came at her from the front, sides, high, low, but she managed to deflect or dodge each strike. He deliberately left himself open to counterattacks several times, but she suspected it was a trap and didn't take the bait. But by not attacking she was leaving Vorkerkas free to plan his attacks carefully and finally he got past her guard and whacked her upper arm painfully. "Hurts a bit, doesn't it?" he chuckled. "Something you have to get used to, Payne." He stopped and chuckled again. "Pain for Payne! I rather like that!" Several of the others laughed. _Yeah, I bet you do! _Anny held her anger in check and took the ready position.

This time she made a few attacks of her own but Vorkerkas easily blocked them. The movements with the sabre were entirely different from those with the foil and she'd barely ever practiced them. Vorkerkas clearly had. _I don't have a chance here. Maybe I should just let him have his three touches and call it quits…_

Suddenly Vorkerkas struck low and slashed across her upper thigh. _Ow!_ The sabre's edges weren't sharpened, but it still felt like a whiplash despite her protective trousers. The speaker in her helmet pinged. Below the waist wasn't a legal target.

"Sorry about that," said Vorkerkas. But he didn't look the least bit sorry.

They continued and shortly he managed to slash her other thigh. The first hit was burning like fire and this one was just as bad. "Heavens, I'm out of practice," smirked Vorkerkas. "I better be more careful or this match could take all night."

And that was just what he wanted! Yes, she could see it now: he'd deliberately keep striking her in illegal spots and drag this out as long as he possibly could. Until she quit.

Or until she won.

But she quickly saw that there was no chance of that. He was just too good. Even after she was expecting the low attacks, she wasn't able to take advantage of it and score on him. She started concentrating on defending her legs even though that meant exposing her upper body. She was hoping he'd make the scoring touches and end this one-sided contest, but he didn't. He just wanted to hurt her. Why? What had she ever done to him? _When did they ever need a reason?_ Her thoughts went back to her first year at the Academy…

Vorkerkas' blade darted to one side and Anny twisted to avoid it, but then in a blur of movement he brought it around to her other side and savagely slashed it across her exposed backside.

"Oh nicely done!" cried one of the watchers.

"Well placed!" said another. The watchers all laughed.

"Oops," said Vorkerkas, grinning.

The pain was so intense that Anny had to bite her lip and blink furiously to keep the tears from dripping down her cheeks. Damn! What the hell was she going to…?

"Lieutenant Payne? Is Lieutenant Payne here?" A raised voice attracted everyone's attention.

"Over here," she gasped.

An enlisted man pushed through the crowd of watchers and she was surprised to see that it was Private Kerbeck from her platoon. "Oh, there you are, Lieutenant!"

"What is it, Private?"

"Sergeant Kay needs you at the company office right away, sir. Some sort of emergency."

"What's wrong?"

"Don't know. He just said to come get you ASAP."

"All right, I'm coming." She looked at Vorkerkas, who was frowning. She tossed him her sabre and he caught it. "Sorry, Lieutenant, duty calls. We'll have to continue this another time."

Vorkerkas nodded. "Yes, another time."

Anny hobbled over to her locker and pulled off her protective gear and stuffed them inside. She was wearing her fatigues underneath. She put on her cap and followed Kerbeck out of the gym. She tried not to limp, but Kerbeck slowed his pace to match the best she could do. "You all right, sir?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Bastards," muttered Kerbeck.

"What was that, Private?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Didn't think so."

By the time they reached the C Company barracks, she was able to walk almost normally. She went up the short flight of steps and into the company HQ office. Sergeant Kay was there with a couple of the other sergeants. "What's the emergency, Sergeant?" she asked. Kay jumped to his feet.

"Oh, sorry sir! False alarm! Sorry to call you here for no reason. I should have commed you after I sent off Kerbeck to fetch you."

Anny stood there and stared at him for a moment, a frown growing on her face. "Why did you think you needed to send for me in the first place?"

Kay reddened. "Uh, it was nothing sir. I thought that… well you see… nothing, sir! Nothing at all!"

"Well! Almost lights out," declared one of the other sergeants suddenly.

"Yeah. Big day tomorrow," said another. "G'night, Lieutenant."

"I better check on the boys, sir," said Kay. "See you tomorrow." He went past her out the door. Kerbeck had already vanished.

_What the hell was that about? Did they deliberately try to get me away from Vorkerkas and his cronies? How could they have known…?_ Estaban? Had he tipped off her men? A smile slowly grew on her face.

[Scene Break]

"I'm gonna break his neck!" snarled Jer. "Look at this!"

"Can't," murmured Anny. "M'head doesn't turn that far. But don't stop."

"Hedonist."

"You bet. Mmmm…"

Anny was lying face-down on Jer's bed without a stitch on. He was tending her wounds and if the welt and bruises on her ass were anything like the ones on her thighs and arm they must be spectacular indeed. But Jer was rubbing in a healing ointment and at the moment she was feeling just fine.

"Seriously! You ought to bring Vorkerkas up on charges!"

"For what? Sabre practice? I agreed to fence against him and I could have quit at any time. Not exactly enough to court martial him, Jer."

"He knew you wouldn't quit! He was counting on it!"

"Yup. And I walked right into it. I ought to bring myself up on charges for gross stupidity."

"How can you not be upset?"

"With you doing what you're doing? Right now I couldn't be upset with anything. Mmmm…. Don't think he hit me there, but keep going."

Jer snorted, but did what he was told. "This is just like our first close-combat session at the Academy. Remember? That was a set-up, too."

"Yup. Except this time I made it out with no broken bones and not under arrest. See, I'm improving."

"Yeah, right. By the time you make general you might be able to join a new unit without mussing a hair! But it was lucky you got called away."

"If it was luck. I'm thinking maybe it wasn't."

"Estaban?"

"Don't know who else could have tipped off my men."

"Well, he is an okay guy, I guess…" admitted Jer, grudgingly.

Anny laughed. "Don't be jealous! I doubt he could do this half as good as you are. Mmmm, doubt anyone could…" Jer's hands had now strayed well out of the damage area.

"But I still don't see what Vorkerkas is after," persisted Jer. "He tried to pick a fight with me and then he does this to you. And yes, I know he doesn't need a reason. But we need to be on our guard, Anny. I doubt he'll give up."

"Well, we won't either." She rolled over and grabbed him. "Now shut up and kiss me. We can talk about this later!"

[Scene Break]

"_The finest were Vorlinton's Guard;  
The Sixty-First is just as hard;  
Our arms we wield from star to star  
Far from the hills of Barrayar.  
__Far from the hills and skies of home,  
We'll strike at planet, ship or dome;  
From Cetaganda to Escobar,  
Far from the hills of Barrayar."_

Anny listened to the men singing and felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Over sixteen hundred men, slightly out of sync because of the long column, and slightly out of tune because some of them couldn't sing worth a damn, but it was still splendid. The regimental band drowned out the worst of the sour notes as the men roared out the Regiment's marching song.__

_"The Colonel said: Give them your steel!_

_And we crushed the foes beneath our heel;_

_We'll crush our foes both near and far;_

_For the Emperor! For Barrayar!_

_Far from the hills and skies of home,  
We'll strike at planet, ship or dome;  
From Cetaganda to Escobar,  
Far from the hills of Barrayar."_

She had heard bits and pieces of the song from time to time, but this was the first time she'd heard it sung like this. She found herself listening closely. There had been a notation in the regimental handbook reminding people that the _old_ version of the song was still banned. A little research had revealed the next-to-last line of each verse used to go: _From Cetaganda to Komarr, _but for political reasons that had been changed to the present version. Supposedly some troops would still sing the old version, but she didn't hear anyone doing that today._  
_

"_Be at the ready, on your marks;  
Precise as scalpels, fierce as arcs.  
For nothing must our honor mar  
Learned in the hills of Barrayar.  
__Far from the hills and skies of home,  
We'll strike at planet, ship or dome;  
From Cetaganda to Escobar,  
Far from the hills of Barrayar."_

The tune was taken from an old, old folk song that Anny had heard a hundred times, but it was catchy and stuck in your head. She found herself singing along with the rest.

"_Send us your best to do their worst,  
They'll break upon the Sixty-First.  
And when we're done, we'll leap afar  
Back to the hills of Barrayar.  
__Back to the hills and skies of home,  
Done with our march, no more to roam;  
From Cetaganda and Escobar,  
Back to the hills of Barrayar."*_

The song ended and the band took up another march, drums pounding and fifes trilling, as the regiment moved onto the parade ground. The column—band, regimental headquarters, and 1st and 2nd battalions—stretched over half a kilometer from the barracks. Everyone was in their dress greens. There were a lot of people already there waiting for them. Three of the behemoths of the 283rd were lined up at the south end of the field and the crews and support personnel arrayed around them. At the north end were the vehicles, guns and crews of the 32nd Artillery and arrayed between the tanks and the guns, along the west side of the field were the men of the 139th Infantry. The reservists had arrived that morning and after a day getting settled in, they were now on the field with all the other units of the 25th Brigade.

The 61st moved across the field and formed its line in front of the 139th, facing a raised platform that had been erected on the field's east side. The brigade commander, General Vorsilva, would be there with his staff. To the right of the platform were several of the smaller units attached to the brigade: engineers, medical and service personnel. All around the field was a huge crowd of civilian spectators. Apparently the rumors had been right: the 139th had brought their families.

"Battalions… Halt!" shouted out Colonel Fetherbay in a roar that Anny envied. The band stopped playing and everyone halted. "Front!" Everyone faced to the left and there was a commendably small amount of shuffling around as the ranks were dressed. "Order… Arms! Parade… Rest!" Anny lowered her sword and rested her hands on the hilt. She was in the rank of file closers, directly behind her platoon and she looked over her men with satisfaction.

She still hadn't been able to drag the truth out of Sergeant Kay about how he'd known to send Kerbeck to 'rescue' her from Vorkerkas last week, but she supposed it didn't really matter. What was important was that they _had_ saved her. Their lieutenant was in a bind and they'd come get her. They didn't have to—it wasn't a combat situation or their responsibility in any way—but they had. They were accepting her and that's what counted. She felt a warm glow inside.

The General was supposed to give some sort of speech, but there seemed to be a delay and she could see people scurrying around on the platform. Hurry up and wait. It didn't really bother her anymore. She looked to left in hopes of catching sight of Jer with 2nd Battalion, but she couldn't see him. Alby was with the regimental staff.

A distant rumble caught her attention and she glanced behind her. The weather forecast was for thunderstorms late in the day and there had been towering clouds building up beyond the western mountains all afternoon. She hoped Vorsilva's speech didn't run too long or everyone was going to get soaked. Or hit by lightning.

Finally things got straightened out and Vorsilva gave his speech. Anny found it uninspiring and she blanked much of it out. He was just welcoming the reservists and talking about the importance of the reserve system and how vital it was for every citizen to do their bit in defending the Imperium. She only perked her ears up when the General mentioned the large-scale exercise that would be held near the end of the 139th's training month. That ought to be fun.

The thunder was getting louder and she was relieved when Vorsilva finished up and the brigade could pass in review. It was pretty impressive, really, the most troops and equipment she'd seen in one place since the parade celebrating the birth of Princess Kareen back in second year at the Academy. But the storm was coming and as each unit finished passing by the reviewing stand,they headed directly back toward their barracks. No one lingered behind and the spectators were rapidly dispersing. She just had time to dismiss her men and then sprint for the Regimental Officers Mess. A strong wind had come up, swaying the tall pines, and a few fat rain drops were splattering the ground as she went up the steps.

Inside it was crowded and the shelves for their hats were piled high. Swords had to be leaned against the wall because all the hanging pegs were filled. As the home regiment, the 61st was hosting the officers from all the other units. The doors between the mess and the attached gymnasium had been thrown open and extra tables set up in there. Dozens of stewards were bustling about trying to handle the influx. They'd had to set up an annex for the bar. More officers were pushing in behind her. It was pouring outside now.

Anny moved away from the door and through the mess into the gymnasium area which was still relatively uncrowded. Between all the officers from two infantry regiments, several battalions, and brigade headquarters, along with their wives and girlfriends, it might get very crowded indeed. She managed to find Jer and they both got beers and found a place to sit down. "How are things going?" she asked him.

"Not bad," he replied. "No problems with Vorkerkas although we're giving each other as wide a berth as we can. How about you?"

"Good. The platoon is in fine shape. Well mostly."

"Problems?"

"Well, I'm worried about my platoon sergeant, Kay. He's not really carrying the load. He tries, he's not a deadbeat, but he just doesn't seem to have a handle on what the job's all about. I think it's because his last boss was Sergeant Milroy who used to be the platoon sergeant before he was made the acting platoon commander. I suspect that Milroy couldn't bring himself to let go and just sort of did both jobs and let Kay watch. Now I want Kay to do his job and he doesn't know how."

"Have you talked with him?"

Anny sighed. "Not really. I've hinted at it, but I don't seem to be getting through. And… and…"

"And you don't want to come down hard on him because you're new. Yeah, I can see that. Maybe you should talk to the company first sergeant and see if he can get through to Kay. That is part of _his_ job, after all."

"Yeah, maybe I should…"

"Ah, there you are, Lieutenant, we were looking for you." Anny looked up and then sprang to her feet. Colonel Fetherbay was there and with him were General Vorsilva and another colonel who could only be the commander of the 139th, Colonel Downes. All three men had their wives with them.

"Sir." she said. Jer was on his feet, too, but neither of them saluted. No salutes in the Mess.

Fetherbay smiled and then turned to Vorsilva. "General, may I present two of our new lieutenants: This is Lieutenant Payne and this is Lieutenant Naddel."

"Well, no doubt which is which," said Vorsilva, stepping forward to shake hands. He was a beefy middle-aged man with a bushy mustache and thinning hair. His dress greens had an impressive collection of decorations on the chest, too many to decipher at the moment. "Welcome to Fort Vorolson, gentlemen," he said. "I hope you're liking it here."

"Yes, sir," said Anny and Jer in unison.

"Glad to hear that. This is my wife, Penelope, and this is Colonel Downes and his wife, Janice." Greeting were made all around and then Lady Penelope couldn't contain herself anymore.

"Oh, Lieutenant Payne, I've just been dying to meet you! Harold didn't even tell me you were here until last week! Can you believe it? The very first woman in the military—ever!—right here on our base! And he didn't even tell me! And just look at you! You look just like a soldier! That's so wonderful!" Behind Lady Penelope Anny could see Colonel Fetherbay's wife, a nice lady named Sara, and Colonel Downes' wife exchanging glances and rolling their eyes.

Lady Penelope kept rambling on and Anny kept smiling and nodding and the General's frown kept getting darker and darker. Finally Fetherbay broke in: "General, I think I see our other new addition over there. Lieutenant Vorsworth is the grandson of Admiral Vorsworth who died two years back, as you remember. You really ought to meet him, too. He's helping out with the new simulator project." Anny saw Alby across the room and was tempted to yell at him to run, but restrained herself. Vorsilva managed to drag his wife away.

"We must have tea sometime!" she called back to her. Somewhat to Anny's surprise—well, maybe it wasn't so surprising after all—Colonel Fetherbay's wife didn't go along with the others. Anny had met her a few times in the mess, but they'd never really had a chance to talk.

"She means well," said Mrs. Fetherbay, nodding at the General's wife. "Don't be put off by her manner. She misses the bright lights and social events of the capital, I think. You're the only excitement to happen around here in quite a while."

"If she considers me excitement, things must be _really_ dull."

The woman smiled. "Well, you are rather exciting, Lieutenant. At least to some people. In fact, I wanted to ask a favor of you."

"Ma'am?"

"We're having a little get-together of all the officers' wives—from all the units—next week and I was wondering if you'd be willing to come and give a little talk?"

"A talk?" said Anny in surprise. "What about?"

"Why about you, of course. Why you decided to go to the Academy. How you got there. What it was like and how you made it through. There are a lot of us who would really like to know."

"I… I…" stuttered Anny, flustered. "I have duty and…"

"My husband has already said that you can be excused duty for this, Lieutenant."

"I've never done anything like that, ma'am, I don't know if I…"

"Lieutenant… Anny, please," said Mrs. Fetherbay. "I have a teenage daughter. A lot of the other wives have daughters. And some of them… a lot of them are talking about you and what you've done. They want to know—I want to know—what they'll face if they try to do it too."

The woman looked at her so intently that Anny found herself saying yes. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll get the details to you tomorrow." She smiled and went after her husband. Anny plopped back down on her chair.

"Shit."

Jer laughed. "What's the matter? It might be fun."

"I've never done any public speaking!"

"You do it all the time! You commanded a company of cadets and now you command a platoon of assault troopers. That's gotta be harder than talking to a batch of women."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. A bright flash of light came through the windows followed almost immediately by a loud crack of thunder that shook the whole building. "See? Even the gods are against it."

"You'll do fine, Anny."

Shaking her head, she took a swig of her now-warm beer and tried to decide if she was hungry. Due to the large number of people, dinner was buffet-style tonight. The lines looked pretty long. Maybe she'd wait…

"Holy crap!" cried Alby, who suddenly appeared through the crowd. "I never thought I'd get away from her!"

"Lady Penelope?" smirked Jer.

"Yes! How'd you manage to escape her?"

"The General spotted you and dragged her away. We owe you one."

"You certainly do!" he grabbed an empty chair and carried it over next to theirs. "But I need to talk to you two."

"What about?"

"Vorkerkas."

"Oh dear," sighed Anny. "What now?" She glanced around, but despite the crowd, they seemed to have relative privacy in their corner.

"I might—might!—have figured out why he's taken such a shine to the two of you."

"Really? Why?"

Alby pulled out his ubiquitous computer pad and called up a display. Anny squinted and realized that it was a genealogical family tree of some sort. He pointed to one of the boxes. "Here is our dear Lieutenant Vorkerkas."

"Yeah? So?" asked Jer. "According to that he _does_ have a mother and a father—who would have guessed?"

"Yup," said Alby. "And a grandfather who had a sister who married into another family…" Alby touched the controls and the diagram shifted sideways revealing a bunch of other boxes. "And if you follow this other family tree down a few generations you'll see that it dropped one seriously rotten apple." Anny stared at the box Alby was indicating and her blood ran cold.

"Shit!" snarled Jer "Yosef Vorritter!"

The name seemed to burn into Anny's brain like a hot iron. _Vorritter!_ He'd been a lieutenant on the frigate _Swifsure_ during a short training cruise to Komarr Anny had taken in her third year at the Academy. He'd seemed friendly and helpful, but once they'd reached Komarr… He and three friends had lured her into a tavern with plans to drug and rape her. Only the lucky arrival of Jer and Alby and Patric and Denis Fallon had saved her. Vorritter had been court-martialed, cashiered, and sent to prison. She'd tried to erase him from her memories—with no success.

"Vorkerkas is related to Vorritter?" demanded Jer.

"Second cousins, once removed," confirmed Alby.

"Second cousins! I don't even _know_ any of my second cousins! And if one of them was a criminal I sure wouldn't hold it against his victim if he got thrown in jail! I can't believe that he…"

"The Vor take stuff like this seriously, Jer," said Anny. "Blood ties are a big deal to them."

"Very big," said Alby. "I don't know for sure there's a connection between this and his behavior, but there might be. And if he is out for avenge his family honor, we all need to watch out! I was just as involved in that fracas as you two."

"I suppose we do. But how'd you ever think to look this up?"

Alby shrugged. "He'd made it pretty clear that he was our enemy, so I decided to do some intelligence-gathering. Besides I was bored out of my mind with that bloody simulator job and needed something to do."

"Did you find out anything else we should know?" asked Anny. She didn't need this. She really didn't need this!

"Not so far," replied Alby, shaking his head. "There don't seem to be any other relatives of Vorritter serving here—although there are some others elsewhere. I did hack into Vorkerkas' personal communications and plant a bug, so I'll see if he's planning anything with anyone else."

"Alby, someday you are going to get caught!" Alby was a very skilled computer hacker—as he'd proved several times at the Academy.

Alby just grinned. But then he tapped the computer pad. "Don't expect this to warn us if he is planning anything. We all need to be on guard. And guys? I really think we need to get off the base, out of the BOQ. I know you're worried about the cost, but it still might be best."

"I don't know," said Jer. "We might be safer here."

"If I buy or lease a house, I can have some _real_ defenses installed," said Alby, grinning again. "And keep in mind that it might not just be Vorkerkas. He's got friends in the regiment. We don't know who we can trust here."

"I can trust my men and I think we can trust Estaban," said Anny. "Maybe he'd like to go in on the house."

"That's a thought. Well, I'll take a look again at the market and get back to you. In the meantime, let's eat! I'm starved!" He got up and headed for the buffet.

Anny followed, but she wasn't the least bit hungry.

*Song by Jonathan Cresswell-Jones (with many thanks—again!)


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"**D**id you… did you have to use the same _bathrooms_ as the boys?"

The girl's question brought forth a gale of laughter and giggles from the other girls in the auditorium and polite chuckles from their mothers. The girl's face blushed a bright pink and Anny sincerely hoped her face didn't match it.

Sara Fetherbay had told her that the meeting was going to be only for the officers' wives, but apparently the thing had just _growed_ of its own accord. There were easily three hundred women and girls facing her and even a few men in uniform—fathers, she presumed. One of the Fort's auditoriums had been pressed into service to accommodate them all.

Anny forced herself to smile at the girl who had asked the question. She looked about twelve. "Well, not very often," she said. "They have a separate women's barracks at the Academy now with its own bathrooms. They've put women's locker rooms in the training facilities and I understand they are adding women's restrooms in the academic buildings, too." The girl smiled in relief and sat down.

But almost immediately another woman stood up. "You said 'not very often', Lieutenant. I assume that means that there were times when you… did have to share the facilities with the men?"

"Yes, ma'am, it does. Sometimes there aren't going to be separate facilities. Sometimes there isn't going to be any privacy. That's just the way it is." An awkward silence followed and Anny decided it was about time to wrap this up. She'd been up at the podium talking and taking questions for nearly an hour. "The thing that you all have to remember is that the main purpose of the Imperial Service Academy is to train combat officers. That is a very serious thing. A matter of life and death, quite literally. Little things like bathrooms or modesty just don't count much when compared to having the lives of your fellow soldiers in your hands. The Imperial Service Academy is one of the finest and toughest institutions of its kind in the wormhole nexus. It's tough on purpose. Anyone who doesn't have what it takes will not make it through and that is a good thing. But if you do have what it takes then you will find that serving the Imperium, the Emperor, and the people will be one of the most rewarding things you will ever do." She paused and then said "Thank you very much for letting me speak to you today." She stepped back from the podium.

The applause that followed seemed enthusiastic and quite sincere and Anny was touched. Mrs. Fetherbay came up and spoke for a moment, thanking Anny and all who had attended and then she escorted Anny through a door at the rear of the stage. "Well!" she said. "That went as well as I could have hoped! Thank you so much for doing this, Anny."

"I hope I didn't scare too many of them away."

"The ones who really want to do it won't be scared. And those you did scare off were never serious to begin with. That's why I asked you to give this talk. I hear from the mothers in the Regiment all the time and ever since we got the word that you'd be coming here, their daughters have all started talking about going to the Academy. We thought a dose of cold realism would be a good thing and you provided that."

"Glad I could help out. But from what I've seen and heard, the Academy is doing an exceptionally thorough job of screening the female applicants these days. Any girl trying to get in will probably be getting several doses of cold realism before they ever make it through the door."

"Yes," said Mrs. Fetherbay, "that's what we've heard." The woman frowned. "Anny, do you have time for a short one-on-one talk with me?"

Anny checked the time. "I've got about a half hour before I have to go and get ready for dress parade."

"Oh good. That should be plenty of time. There's an office over here where we can have some privacy." She led the way to a small room and shut the door after them. "Anny, I couldn't help but notice the one thing you didn't talk about today." Anny raised her eyebrows and gave a quizzical look. "Sex."

"It's against regulations at the Academy, ma'am."

"A lot of things are against regulations but that doesn't mean they never happen."

"Well, it never happened while I was a cadet, ma'am. Not that I ever saw or heard about."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh," Fetherbay looked surprised. "I… I had just heard some rumors about you and Lieutenant Naddel…"

"We fell in love at the Academy, but we waited until after graduation until we did anything about it, ma'am. All perfectly legal per the regulations." Anny's voice had become stiffer. This wasn't any of Fetherbay's business.

"I see. Well, that wasn't really what I was concerned about, anyway," said Fetherbay. "I'd heard some other rumors. About something that happened involving you on Komarr."

Anny frowned. She'd been afraid that was where this was heading. She realized that the story was going to spread with time, but she hadn't really thought about it spreading to civilians… "What do you want to know, ma'am? Was I raped? No. Did someone try to rape me? Yes. I don't think I'm at liberty to tell you any more than that."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Anny. I had hoped that the rumors were just rumors. You see, my daughter is sixteen—you saw her there in the audience today—and she isn't going to be scared off. She worships her father and the notion of being able to following in his footsteps has completely taken hold of her. And well, I worry about her as any parent would. Being one of just a handful of women in the service… surrounded by all those men…"

"I understand, ma'am. And I won't lie to you that there's no danger." She paused and looked down at the floor for a moment before continuing. "I think… I think the worst of it is that you can prepare yourself mentally for being killed or hurt… or raped by the enemy. But to have it happen from someone who's supposed to be your friend. That's hard. You shouldn't have to fight front and rear, but there it is."

"So… so how do you? Fight front and rear, I mean?" asked Fetherbay, her eyes wide, her brow creased with worry.

"There were two things that got me through. One was preparation. I didn't just walk into the Academy like a lamb to the slaughter. I worked and trained for a solid year beforehand. Physical training, close combat training, I was as prepared as I could make myself. Just having the confidence that comes from knowing you can take care of yourself will dissuade a lot of bullies right off. But the most important thing is not trying to go it alone. I was lucky—incredibly lucky—that I found a few friends right off the bat. Good friends, friends whom I could trust with my life—or my honor. I never would have made it without them. I wish I could give you better reassurances, ma'am, but when you become an officer, you pledge your life to the Empire. If you're willing to die for the Empire then, well, you just have to accept all the rest."

Fetherbay stared at her and then slowly nodded. "Thank you, Anny. For being honest. For everything. Now you better go, I wouldn't want to make you late for dress parade."

[Scene Break]

"So what do you think?" asked Alby Vorsworth. He looked at Anny and Jer and Sven Estaban. They, in turn, were looking at the house he hoped to buy in Malverton.

"It looks nice from the outside," said Anny.

"Nice neighborhood and close to the bus stop," said Estaban.

"Can we look inside?" asked Jer.

"Unfortunately, no," said Alby. "While the reservists are here every square meter of rentable space is taken. This place has three families living here right now." Indeed, there were a half dozen children playing on the front lawn, several of them looking curiously in their direction.

"Once they clear out, we can go in. But I have some pictures on my computer, here, have a look." He held up his computer pad and started bringing up images. The others crowded closer to see.

Too late he realized that the pictures, supplied by the realtor, had the asking price listed next to them. Anny spotted it immediately. "Alby!" she cried. "We can't ask you to spend that much!"

"It's not really that much," he protested.

"It's a lieutenant's whole salary for six years!"

"Anny, I can afford it. And I can always sell it again later. Hell, I'll probably make a nice profit."

"Well, there is that," said Jer, who had a Komarran's eye for business. "If we pay Alby rent, he might come out pretty well in the end."

"Yeah! See?"

Anny frowned, but didn't offer any further protests. "How are we going to work our dog-robbers?" she asked. "It would be silly to have four of them."

Alby grinned. If she was asking a question like that, it meant she was going to agree! "Quinton's getting ready to retire and he tells me that his wife is insisting that they move somewhere where it doesn't snow. So I can probably let him go without much trouble."

"I've been sharing Lt. Vorquinz's man," said Jer. "Probably not a problem if I moved out."

"Well, that just leaves Anny's man and mine," said Estaban. "We can probably work out a schedule for the two of them."

"And I think they both live here in town anyway," said Anny. "It'll be easier for them."

"So it's agreed?" asked Alby.

"I think so," said Estaban. The others nodded.

"Good! I'll contact my realtor and have him put in a bid. A month or so and we'll be able to move in!"

"A month?" said Jer. "I think that's a bit optimistic, Alby."

"All right two, then. Before winter, in any case. This is going to be great!" A thought struck him. "Maybe I'll invite Abigail up here at Winterfair."

"Abigail?" asked Estaban.

"Alby's sweetheart," smirked Jer.

"Oh? From back home?"

"She's from Sergyar," said Anny. "But currently her residence is the Imperial Service Academy."

"What? Oh! One of _those_, eh?"

"One of the Second Six," said Jer. "A company commander, last I heard. Less than two years until she graduates, right, Alby?" He gave him a nudge.

"Yeah, and they'll probably post her back to Sergyar," said Alby, gloomily. "Never see her again."

"Don't be so pessimistic!" said Jer. "Has she said what career track she's thinking about?"

"She hasn't decided. At first she was looking at the naval track—like everyone does. But after the whole business with Anny, I think she's reconsidered."

"What 'whole business with Anny'?" asked Estaban.

Alby glanced at Anny, unsure if he'd said too much, but she just shrugged. "Anny was going for the naval track and she had the grades to make it easy. But word came down from on-high that the navy wasn't ready for women on their ships yet."

"So you joined an assault regiment instead?"

Anny shrugged again. "I wanted to get out there and it seemed like a good way to outflank the admirals. Seems to be working so far."

"Yeah, and next year you'll get out there again when it's 1st battalion's turn with the fleet," said Alby.

"D'you think you'll ever get assigned to one of the battalions, Alby?" asked Anny. "That simulator project can't last forever."

"No? The way that mess is going, I might spend my whole career working on it!"

"As bad as that?" asked Estaban.

"I am not going to talk about it on my day off! Come on, let's get lunch." He led them back into the center of town and to a restaurant he'd been wanting to try. Once they were seated and had given their orders, Alby looked at Jer and Anny. "Any more trouble with Vorkerkas?"

They both glanced at Estaban. "Nothing with me," said Jer. "But we're so busy getting ready for the big exercise, I doubt he'd have time to cook anything up."

Anny shook her head. "Nothing with me, either. And I've been practicing sabre with Ensign Vorgard every chance I get. If he tries that again, he'll be in for a surprise."

Estaban had been taking all this in with a very interested expression on his face. "So what is the deal between you guys and dear Lieutenant Vorkerkas?" he asked. None of them answered and Estaban's eyebrows went up. "Gentlemen, since I seem to be throwing in my lot with you, it would be courteous of you to let me know exactly what I'm getting into here."

"Vorkerkas doesn't like us," said Alby.

Estaban snorted. "Clearly. But why? Like me, Vorkerkas graduated before any of you arrived at the Academy. I'm guessing he never laid eyes on any of you before you joined the 61st. Granted that the man is a bit of an ass, but what could you possibly have done to piss him off so much in such a short time?"

"You're not a Vor, Sven," said Jer. "Surely you know they don't need a reason to act like an ass." He glanced toward Alby. "No offense."

"None taken."

"True," said Estaban. "Yet somehow I sense there's something more going on here than just a prejudice against women and Komarrans."

Anny sighed. "Yes, there is." She had to cut off her explanation when the waitress arrived with their food, but once she was gone, she continued. "Something happened while I was at the Academy. More serious than just the usual hazing and harassment. Four officers got court-martialed and kicked out. Vorkerkas is related to one of them. He may be out for revenge."

"He _may_ be," said Alby. "We don't know anything for sure."

"Ah," said Estaban. "There have been some rumors floating around… interesting."

"If you want to pull out of the house deal, we'll understand," said Anny.

"No… no, I'm in. I've been wanting to get out of the BOQ for a while now and I'd never find a place this nice on my own. Besides, I've had a few run-ins with Vorkerkas myself. I'm assuming you're getting this house as a more defensible position?" They all nodded. "Well, all right then. I'm willing to stand a watch, too."

[Scene Break]

"We will start boarding the assault shuttles at 0400 tomorrow morning," said Lieutenant Vorstang. "Have your men ready! There can be no delays on this, gentlemen, so we have to have our troops at the armory to suit up no later than 0100."

They were in the C Company office. Anny and the other platoon commanders were being briefed by their commanding officer on the upcoming exercise. "Excuse me sir," said Lieutenant Dahlberg of 1st Platoon, "Will we be getting additional information on the operation?" He held up his computer. "This briefing seems a little… thin." Anny had been thinking the same thing. All that it really told them was that they would be simulating the spearhead of a planetary assault. They would board shuttles which would take them into orbit, circle the planet a few times and then make a landing in the northern edges of the mountains about 300 kilometers northeast of Fort Vorolson. They had a series of objectives they were then suppose to move to. But there was no information on enemy forces or friendly forces that might follow in subsequent landing. An assault regiment was usually employed to clear out a landing area so other troops could follow. Presumably the rest of the brigade would be involved, too, but there was no mention of them in the briefing.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" said Vorstang. "But this is all we've got. Hopefully we'll get more information later, but for right now our job is to get the company ready to drop first thing tomorrow. Dress parade has been cancelled this evening so your men can get some sleep later on today. Get your preparations done by 1600. We'll be waking everyone up at 2500. So let's get to it, gentlemen."

They all rose from their chairs and headed out to get their men ready. Anny found her platoon lounging around their barracks and sighed. Sergeant Kay should have found _something_ for them to do while they were waiting for her. The man just didn't seem to be willing to take the initiative when there wasn't someone around to give him orders. It wasn't a lack of respect, everyone jumped to their feet when they saw her, it was just a lack of… she wasn't sure what.

"Okay, everyone," she said. "Big day tomorrow and we've got a lot to do to get ready. It's been three weeks since we've had our armor on and we are going to spend the afternoon giving them a thorough going over." There were a few obligatory groans, but all the men seemed eager. "All right, let's move out." They spilled out of the barracks and got into ranks. She had Sergeant Kay take them to the armory at a trot while she followed along. The men were making wisecracks and were happy. That made Anny happy. She was nearly as eager about this exercise as they were—maybe more. While she had spent quite a bit of time with her platoon training and doing other day-to-day activities, this would be her first combat exercise with them. It should be challenging and fun. And best of all, no one was going to get killed. She was still haunted by the men she'd lost in that fight during her apprentice cruise. The victory had been satisfying but the cost… Well, she wouldn't lose any men this time!

As they neared the armory complex at the north end of the base, she heard the roar of assault shuttles and looked up. A swarm of them—at least two dozen—screamed overhead. They quickly disappeared beyond the ridge. A few moments later a long column of vehicles passed them moving toward the landing field. It was the 32nd Artillery. Some of the men riding on the vehicles waved at them and shouted things that they couldn't hear above the noise from the vehicles. Her men shouted back even though their remarks would be inaudible as well.

"Looks like it's gonna be a helluva show, Lieutenant!" She looked and saw Private Kerbeck grinning at her. She smiled back and nodded.

Turning a corner, there was an outcry from the head of the platoon. Anny quickened her pace and then saw what had caused the excitement. At the far end of the concrete sat ten enormous shapes, the heavy tanks of the 283rd. _All ten of them! _They were turning out the whole battalion for the exercise. _Just like Alby wanted! _Alby had begged and wheedled Fetherbay into letting him come along with the regimental staff. _He's gonna love this!_ Anny was pretty excited herself, although she worried that she hadn't had the chance to work with heavy tanks before. Well, odds were that someone else would be assigned to escort the behemoths. And they needed escorting. Despite their incredible firepower and shielding, tanks that let enemy infantry get in too close could find themselves in trouble.

They reached their own armory building and went inside to work on their suits. There were plenty of other people there already and it was going to get crowded once everyone from both battalions got to work. Anny made sure that all her men were doing what they were supposed to do and then started the check-out on her own set of armor.

She worked for about an hour and was satisfied so far. Everything seemed to be in order but she was going to be extra-thorough. She couldn't help but be a little paranoid after the incident with Vorkerkas. Would he stoop to trying to sabotage her armor? If something were to fail at the wrong moment, something say like the anti-grav units, the results could be fatal. Even some non-fatal failure could be damn embarrassing. She was glad of her long session with the ordnance sergeant weeks earlier. She knew just what to look for.

She took a break from her own suit for a while and checked up on what her platoon as doing. She did a few random inspections and was pleased that no one was skimping on the check-out procedures. She could have done the inspection from her own suit using her command access to the master diagnostic computer, but the men appreciated it when their officer showed personal interest in what they were doing—as long as they didn't stand there, looking over their shoulders for _too_ long.

She was heading back to work when someone came walking up wearing a large unarmored command helmet. "Hi, Anny!" boomed an amplified voice. "Oops," it said in a more normal volume level.

She looked closer. "Alby? That you?"

"Sure is!" he said, pulling the helmet off. "How do you like this contraption? Must weigh a ton, but it's got all the functions of command suit of battle armor!"

"The colonel give you that?"

"Yup! He said that I needed to be able to follow the action if I was going to be good for anything other than fetching coffee."

"A shame you didn't get your own set of armor."

"Yeah, no time now, but Fetherbay told me to make sure I get one fitted to me after this."

"Well that's good. Next time you'll be all ready. But how are you going to be able to keep up with the HQ group without armor?"

"I've got a skimmer. I'll keep up. 'Course if we come under fire I'll probably be marked a casualty in about two seconds, but it will be fun while it lasts."

"Okay, but you watch yourself out there. These sorts of thing can be dangerous even if the fire is all simulated."

"Oh yeah, I'll be careful. Well, see you later." He waved and walked off, lugging his helmet under one arm. Anny smiled. She liked Alby very much.

By mid-afternoon they were all done with their armor. Next came the weapons inspection. For the exercise they wouldn't be doing any live fire, for obvious reasons. But there would be a master tactical computer evaluating everything that was going on and assign casualties based on what the participants were doing. All the weapons had to be put in safe mode with their normal power or ammo packs swapped out for training packs. Then they had to confirm the communications links between the weapons and the master computer. Theoretically when a man fired his weapon, the computer could tell exactly what it was pointed at and evaluate the damage it was doing to the enemy. There would be human judges for the exercise, too. Supposedly there was a major-general from Vorbarr Sultana here as the chief judge.

Things went fairly smoothly but two men had glitches in their weapons that required extra work and they just made the 1600 deadline Vorstang had set. But they did make it and she marched the men back to the barracks and dismissed them. She grabbed a quick dinner at the regular mess hall and then went back to her room, set her alarm for 2450 and then lay down on her bed and tried to sleep. It was hard. She was excited and more than a bit worried about the lack of an in-depth briefing. A planetary invasion was about the most complicated military operation there was. A real one would have plans and documents to fill a small library. Granted this was just a small exercise, but still… Anny's preparation mania was being starved for information and she didn't like it. She supposed that she must have dozed off at least for a while when the alarm woke her.

She quickly showered and put on her undersuit and then her black fatigues over them and headed for the officers' mess, picking up Jer, Alby and Estaban on the way. A steak-and-eggs 'breakfast' was waiting for them. This was the traditional pre-assault drop meal. Despite her nervousness, Anny found that she was hungry enough to eat a bit. The officers all around her were in good spirits, laughing and joking. She managed to ask Lieutenant Vorstang if there had been any updates to the mission briefing. He shook his head.

"No, it looks like we're going into this one blind. But I'll tell you one thing: all the rest of the brigade has already moved out. I'm not sure what that means, but be on your toes."

"Yes sir." She went back to her friends. "Well, just about time, guys. "Don't know if we'll run into each other once we're dirtside again, but good luck and keep your heads down—especially you, Alby."

They shook hands and then headed out to their own assignments. Anny got to the C Company barracks a few minutes before assembly. She felt like there ought to something she should be doing, but she couldn't think of anything. Then the bugle sounded and the men poured out and formed up. For this, they'd march up to the armory as a regiment. It took a few minutes to get both battalions assembled on the road but soon they were off. It was just before midnight and the stars shown brightly overhead. In the distance were the lights of the armory complex and to the left of that the landing fields where their shuttles would be waiting.

They had no music accompanying them this time since the bandsmen were assault troopers just like the rest of them, but they provided their own:

"_The finest were Vorlinton's Guard;  
The Sixty-First is just as hard,  
Our arms we wield from star to star  
Far from the hills of Barrayar.  
__Far from the hills and skies of home,  
We'll strike at planet, ship or dome;  
From Cetaganda to Escobar,  
Far from the hills of Barrayar."_

The men sang and Anny sang with them.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**A** loud tone sounded in Jer's helmet and he cursed with feeling. He was dead. So was nearly all his platoon. His communications system was cut off; he couldn't issue any orders now that he was dead, but his tactical display was still working and he saw that a half-dozen of his men were fleeing north, trying to join up with some other fragment of the regiment, but everyone else was a casualty. And all the heavy weapons were destroyed.

"Shit."

He noticed his platoon sergeant coming toward him and he opened up the visor of his helmet. "Well, Sergeant, looks like it's game over for us."

Shusterman nodded. "Yes, sir, but I'm thinkin' that someone stacked the deck against us."

Jer didn't say anything, but he nodded. It certainly did seem that way. The landing itself had gone like clockwork. The shuttles had placed them in the foothills of the mountains exactly where they were supposed to and then the regiment had moved out to secure its objectives. It had looked, for all the world, like a textbook landing with the assault troopers establishing a secure perimeter for the rest of the brigade to land in.

Unfortunately, the rest of the brigade wasn't on their side anymore.

They were now the Opposition Forces, the defenders of this hypothetical planet the 61st had landed on. Standard doctrine for the defense against an invasion was to hit the landing zone hard and fast and try to wipe it out before further invaders could arrive.

The 25th Brigade had hit hard and fast.

And there weren't any further invaders coming.

The 25th had emerged from their hiding places and smashed right through the 61st's perimeter. The assault troopers were spread too thinly to stop them. Oh, if it had just been the infantry of the 139th, they probably could have held them long enough to redeploy, but it was the heavy tanks of the 283rd and the artillery of the 32nd that had broken the line. The huge war machines were almost impossible to stop with the light weapons carried by assault troopers. Although they _had_ stopped four of them. Jer felt really proud about that. By massing all of their anti-tank weapons they had managed to knock out four of the heavy tanks. Somehow a fifth one had been taken out by the infantry alone.

But that had been the end of the AT platoons. As soon as they had opened up, the enemy artillery had come raining down. The air defense platoons hadn't been able to stop all the fire and enough had gotten through to take out nearly all the heavy weapons. With them gone, the remaining tanks pushed right on through. Jer could see one of the metal beasts smashing through the trees and skellytums a half klick down the ridge. A line of enemy infantry was moving through Jer's position now and they were laughing and waving at all the 'dead' assault troopers.

"Bastards," muttered Shusterman.

Yeah, this had been a set-up for sure. An assault regiment would normally have a lot of orbital fire support to make up for its lack of really heavy weapons. Control of the space around the planet was a given, wasn't it? How could the assault troopers have gotten here if that wasn't the case? But there had been no fire support. And it wasn't like they needed actual warships in orbit for this exercise, just program it into the tactical computer and there you have it.

But they didn't have it and they were getting creamed. Jer looked at his tactical display again. Both sides were assumed to have orbital observation and orbital countermeasures so the information that came through was spotty and subject to errors, but it looked pretty clear that the 61st was getting pushed out of the hills and into the open plains and once they were in the open they'd be annihilated. Colonel Fetherbay had already expended most of the assault shuttles in hopeless attempts to even the odds. The handful that were left wouldn't be enough to evacuate many survivors.

Part of Jer was angry, but he supposed that they needed to train for handling defeat as well as victory. And it would certainly make the reservists feel good. Maybe that was the whole point of this: give them the confidence that they could stand up to first-line troops.

He looked back into the hills. Anny's company was supposed to be over that way somewhere to the southeast. He wondered how she was doing…?

[Scene Break]

"I think we're screwed, sir," said Sergeant Kay.

Anny took a deep breath and looked at her tactical display. Unfortunately, she was afraid that her platoon sergeant was correct. The 61st Imperial Infantry was looking at defeat in detail and there didn't seem to be a damn thing anyone could do about it.

She couldn't believe how quickly things had gone to hell. Her own platoon was still basically intact, she'd only lost five men, but the rest of C Company was wiped out or scattered to the four winds. Lieutenant Vorstang was down, Lieutenant Dahlberg was down and Ensigns Vorberg and Zolek, while still not listed as casualties, weren't answering their coms. Technically that made her the senior officer in the company, but the company now consisted of the 3rd platoon—which she commanded anyway.

The landing had gone fine. They'd debarked and C Company was sent south into the hills and spread out in a long skirmish line. Their orders were to form a perimeter protecting the landing zone. They'd made contact with some enemy recon troops on skimmers, but they'd fallen back before Anny's troops could engage them. They'd reached their assigned locations and halted to await developments.

They hadn't been long in coming.

Artillery fire had poured down on them and then the heavy tanks had appeared. One had slammed into C Company's right flank. Anny's platoon had been farthest away, so Vorstang had ordered her to take over holding the rest of the company's line while he went after the tank with everyone else. And they'd done it, they'd taken out the tank, but at a terrible cost. And that left Anny holding a line five kilometers long with forty men. A large force of enemy infantry was following up behind the tank and while Anny had been trying to figure out how to deal with them, an order had come from Regiment telling everyone to fall back and regroup.

So they'd retreated. They'd out-distanced the pursuing infantry and broken contact, but the tactical display told her they had simply run out of luck. While they had been holding their initial line, strong enemy forces had passed by them on either flank and they were now in a three-sided box. And up ahead the cover was getting mighty thin. The north slope of the mountains was about as far as Terrestrial vegetation had spread and the native Barrayaran plants didn't provide much concealment.

Anny and her platoon had rallied next to a small cliff. A waterfall thundered over it and gathered in a deep pool at the base of the cliff and then rolled away, downhill toward the flat land. A clump of the last tall trees soared overhead. At another time it would be a beautiful spot for a picnic. She'd have to rent a light-flyer and take Jer up here sometime…

"So what do we do, Lieutenant?" asked Kay. "We stay here, we're dead for sure."

Yeah, that was true. There were at least two companies of the 139th on their tails and even though they could probably hold them, as soon as they tried the relentless artillery would blast them out. But if they kept moving, would it be any better? They couldn't go east or west; there was more infantry there and a pair of the tanks on each side. The only way open was due north and as soon as they lost their cover, they'd be hit from three sides. She'd lose two-thirds of her people before she could ever reach the rally point. The situation was clearly hopeless, but she hated losing everyone for nothing.

Her instinct was to turn back south and try to punch right through her pursuers, get into _their_ rear and cause as much trouble as she could before they were wiped out. But as soon as they saw her coming, they would call in that damn artillery and the remaining enemy tanks weren't that far away and… She'd lose so many men breaking through she wouldn't have enough left to do anything—even if she survived to lead them. And the thought of Sergeant Kay being left in command was not a pleasant one.

So it would have to be north. That's what her orders were and it seemed the best bet, dismal as it was. _Damn, if we could just drop out of sight… _She looked around.

She saw it.

She stood and stared and frantically tried to find the flaw in the plan that had materialized in her head. There was a flaw—a big one, several, actually—but if it worked… _Why the hell not?_

"Lieutenant?"

"Third Platoon, listen up!" All in a clump like this, they were able to use tight-beam lasers to communicate without risk of giving themselves away. "The enemy thinks they've got us beat, but we've still got one trick up our sleeves. Follow me!" She headed south—right into the pool of water. It came up to her waist with a treacherous bottom. She kept going until she was standing right under the waterfall. She could feel the torrent beating on her armor. She looked back and saw her platoon hesitating. "Come on! Everyone in here with me! Close it up!" Her troopers closed up around her, nearly shoulder to shoulder.

"All right, we are going disappear for a while. We are going to hide here and let the enemy move past us and then we're going to kick them right in the ass."

"Lieutenant," said Kay, "they'll spot us even here. Our power emissions…"

"There won't be any power emissions, Sergeant. We are going to shut down our suits."

"What?" A dozen voices exclaimed in protest.

"You heard me. We are going to power down and hide underwater for an hour. The cold water will mask any IR emissions and they'll never think to actually look under the water."

"How will we breathe?" asked one of the men.

"We can keep our air scrubbers working. They can run off our batteries."

"I don't know how to set that up…"

"I can run you through the procedure, but we've got to hurry. First, everyone lie down. Make sure you are under water." Anny lowered herself down until she was lying on her back. There was about a meter of water over her. Her men did the same. "Okay, now call up your master menus." A command screen appeared on her heads-up display. "Hit 'command sequence', the little box on the lower right. Then hit 'special instructions'…" She ran them through the sequence, step by step. She was so glad she'd studied the armor so thoroughly! "Set the timer for 60 minutes. Everyone got that?" While her troops were acknowledging, she set her own timer for 55 minutes.

"Lieutenant?" said Kay. "If this don't work, we're gonna be fish in a barrel. We won't even be able to fight back!"

"But if it does work, we'll give them the surprise of their lives, eh, Sergeant?"

"But…"

"These are my orders, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir." Kay didn't sound happy.

"Com'on, Sarge," said Private Kerbeck, "It'll be fun."

"You just want to sleep for an hour," said Private Soblinski.

"Cut the chatter," commanded Anny. "All right, on my mark, hit the 'execute' button. It will probably get a bit cold in your suits after a while, but we'll be fine. And don't worry about being stuck here, if the medical monitors detect any problems, the suit will start up automatically. All right, everyone get ready. On my mark, three, two, one… execute!"

Anny did not hit the execute command in her own suit immediately. She waited to make sure all her troopers had done so. She called up her platoon status display and saw all her troopers changing from 'active' to 'inactive'. A couple of them hesitated, but after thirty seconds, they were all inactive. Anny took a breath and then hit the 'execute' key for her own armor.

[Commencing shutdown…]

Her display went blank except for that message. After a few moments, the mechanical 'muscles' of her suit locked and she couldn't move. The status lights in her helmet winked out and she was in blackness except for a tiny green message in one corner:

[Restart in: 54:47]

She suspected this was going to be the longest fifty-five minutes of her life.

[Scene Break]

Being dead wasn't so bad, reflected Alby Vorsworth. No duty, no responsibilities, just hang around and watch the show.

But he suspected that the final act was fast approaching in this show. He looked at the big holo-display that Colonel Fetherbay's HQ people had set up in a small cave they'd found. The 61st was being squeezed into a pocket. If he was reading the fast-changing display correctly, then the regiment had about 500 troopers left in action. The enemy had a lot more and they were closing in. Their five remaining heavy tanks were sweeping around the flanks to close the pocket and cut off any retreat. The big machines were able to move a lot faster now that they were out of the rough terrain to the south. Of course, the things could actually fly on their anti-gravs if they wanted to, but that would expose their thin belly armor and no sane tank jockey would ever do that in a combat zone.

The enemy infantry were forming the other sides of the pocket. The lightly equipped troops of the 139th couldn't beat assault troopers in a stand-up fight, but any time the 61st tried to go after them, the enemy artillery came crashing down and broke them up. With the regiment's heavy weapons and air defense gone and no orbital fire support to blast the enemy guns, they'd been free to wreck havoc. They'd probably lost more men to the artillery than to the tanks.

The artillery had gotten Alby, too.

In the first few minutes of the enemy attack, a barrage had swept across the HQ. It hadn't done much to the men in battle armor, but Alby was marked as a casualty almost immediately. The Colonel had given him permission to tag along and watch as long as he didn't break the rules by doing anything useful. Alby had been perfectly happy to oblige.

"Where's the rest of C Company?" demanded Fetherbay suddenly.

"I don't know," replied his chief of staff. "Most of them were lost taking out that tank…"

"But there were still at least a platoon left a few minutes ago. In sector G-19." The Colonel pointed at the display. "They're gone now." Alby studied the display. The rules of the exercise made the sensor readings sporadic for both sides so the information on the display was never complete or entirely accurate.

"Maybe the artillery got them…"

"All of them? They got the order to fall back, didn't they?"

"I think so, sir."

"Damn…" But then another officer called to the Colonel, reporting some new emergency and he moved to deal with it. Alby continued to stare at the display. _C Company, eh? _The last status update Alby had seen had Anny as the senior surviving officer.

_What are you up to, girl?_

[Scene Break]

[Restart in: 00:03… 00:02… 00:01… Commencing Restart]

Anny sighed in relief as her battle armor came to life again. It had indeed been a very long fifty-five minutes. At first it had gotten warm in her suit as the cooling system shut down, but then it had gotten colder and colder as the water sucked away the heat. She was shivering now. And she kept telling herself that it was just her imagination that the air was getting stuffy… But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to her anxiety about the risky plan she had adopted. She had been assuming that the enemy had lost track of them in the rough hills and that they would assume their sudden disappearance from the sensor displays was due to the continual jamming and countermeasures that had been going on since the exercise started. They were reservists, it was exciting, there was so much to keep track of, they wouldn't notice one missing platoon.

It was a big assumption.

If the enemy had a really sharp sensor officer or if someone had a solid fix on them when they powered down or if the pursuing infantry had been closer than she'd thought… Well, they were dead. Granted, this was just an exercise and they wouldn't really be dead, but it would be humiliating and embarrassing and she really didn't want it to end that way.

But as her armor finished its start-up there was no indication that she'd been killed. According to her status display she was still alive and fully functional. It had worked!

She slowly sat up until her helmet was just above the water and activated the suit's external cameras. She couldn't see much because of the waterfall so she crawled forward until she was out of the spray. She looked around.

No one.

She switched to the IR display. She didn't dare use active sensors, but nothing showed up on the passive infra-red, either. No enemy in sight.

She activated her tactical display and waited while it downloaded the latest update that HQ was broadcasting via satellite to all the 61st. She was dismayed to see how few friendly forces remained. A small island of blue floated in a red sea. Well, it was more of a peninsula than an island. There was still a narrow open zone leading north, but the enemy armor was moving to close the trap. The Regiment didn't have much time left. But that sea of red was all north of her now. The enemy had gone on past and not noticed them!

As she studied the details, the rest of her platoon began their own restarts. A few minutes later they were all crouched next to her in the water. "Everyone okay?' she asked.

"Freezing my ass… uh, okay, Lieutenant."

"I don't _ever_ want to do that again! Sir."

"Afraid of the dark, Wasinski?"

"Cut the chatter!" snapped Kay. "What now, sir?"

"Look at the situation," she replied. Kay tied into her display. "The Regiment is trapped here. The enemy artillery is here, and we are right… here."

"Right behind them!" exclaimed Kay.

"Yup, they're less than a klick to the north of us."

"Let's take 'em, sir!" cried Private Kerbeck.

"I intend to. But based on this deployment, where would you guess the enemy headquarters would be?"

"Uh… not sure, sir," said Kay. "Probably close to the guns…"

"Yes, based on these sensor readings—see the high com traffic?—I would place them right about there."

"Oh ho!" said Kerbeck. "The General is gonna shit himself!"

"Kerbeck!" snapped Kay.

"Sorry…"

"All right, attention," said Anny. "Sergeant Kay, you will take 2nd Squad and half the weapons squad and attack these guns here," she marked a spot on the display. "Sergeant Rollins, you will take 3rd Squad and the rest of weapons and hit the guns over here. Take them out! That is your objective: knock out the enemy guns! Everything else is secondary. I will take 1st Squad and hit the enemy HQ. Once the enemy artillery is silenced, we'll all converge on the HQ and I'll have new orders for you then. Understand?"

"Yes sir!"

"All right. Com silence unless you're spotted, no active sensors, and keep your fool heads down! Move into position and wait for my order to attack. Let's move out!"

They emerged from the water like some primeval pack of dinosaurs. Carnivores. Their prey was just ahead.

They moved down the rock slopes, through the trees and underbrush quickly but carefully. Kay and Rollins veered off to the right and left and were soon lost to sight. Their battle armor had smart-paint and it automatically adjusted its color to match the surroundings. Despite their size, they were hard to see. Of course they would be showing up on sensors now—if anyone was bothering to look. They probably only had a few minutes before someone noticed those energy emissions where they shouldn't be any, but with luck they'd only need a few minutes.

Anny and her troopers reached the bottom of a slope. There was a level spot ahead and a clearing in the trees and she carefully moved up to the edge of the brush. In the clearing were a cluster of vehicles that had to be the brigade HQ. Troops with the unmistakable look of staff officers were bustling about. There was one larger lift-van that looked like a command vehicle. It had antennas on its roof and its wide doors were standing open.

She checked the time. Kay and Rollins had farther to go. She'd give them another minute or two. While she waited, she aimed a directional microphone at the big van.

"…looks like we've got them, General," said a fuzzy voice.

"Yes, Colonel, just a matter of mopping up now," said another.

"What are the tanks going to do once they close the circle, sir?"

"I haven't given them orders yet, but I plan to have them start pushing south toward us. We'll squeeze the enemy tighter and tighter. After a bit I'll let Fetherbay surrender."

"He's not going to be happy, sir."

"Oh, let him stew! Do him good. These assault troopers think they're the lords of creation. It'll be a good lesson for everyone that they aren't invincible."

"Yes sir."

Anny had heard enough. She switched to the platoon circuit. "Ready?"

"Ready," said Rollins.

"In position," said Kay.

"All right! Third Platoon, hit 'em! Go! Go! Go!"

Anny surged through the underbrush and charged toward the command vehicle. Her men started blasting everything in sight. She switched on her active sensors and saw her small band of blue dots moving into a cloud of at least a hundred red ones. But her men were in armor and heavily armed and the enemy were not. There would be a platoon of infantry for security, but they wouldn't have a chance. Red dots blinked out faster than she could count and by the time she reached the van there were only a few enemy left. She still had the microphone on and cries of alarm were coming from the vehicle.

"General! Major Cushing reports his guns are under attack by enemy infantry!"

"Sir! I'm picking up unknown forces…"

"What the hell…?"

"Look out!"

"Sir! Enemy troops are…"

She burst into the van and couldn't resist. "Right here."

A dozen men, including General Vorsilva, were staring at her wide-eyed. Colonel Downes of the 139th was there, too. She stepped forward. "General, you are my prisoner," she said, her external speaker booming out.

"Who the hell are you?" roared Vorsilva. "Joegen! Order some troops to…"

"Sorry, sir," said Anny, raising her weapon. "Please stand down or I'll have to shoot you."

"Joegen! Do as I say!"

Anny sighed and activated her plasma arc and sprayed it across the general and his men. If this had been real the sun-hot beam would have fried flesh and equipment to ashes. Here, all it did was tell the master computer that the men were now casualties. The officer Vorsilva had been shouting at raised his hands helplessly from his com station.

"Sorry, sir, the com won't respond. I'm dead."

"God damn it!" snarled Vorsilva. He turned on her. "Who are you, soldier?"

"Excuse me just a moment, sir," said Anny. She switched off the external speakers and called Kay and Rollins. "Report your status."

"Blastin' 'em down, sir!" cried Kay.

"Weak resistance," said Rollins. "We'll have all the guns knocked out in another minute, sir."

"Good work. Get it done and get back here." She switched to the Regimental HQ circuit. "Payne to Colonel Fetherbay! Priority! Please respond!"

[Scene Break]

Alby was trying to see if a dead man could get a cup of coffee when one of the sensor officers cried out. "Sir! Colonel! The enemy artillery has stopped firing! And I'm reading friendlies near their position!"

Every eye turned to the tactical display and sure enough there were some blue dots near the enemy artillery positions.

"What the hell?" said Fetherbay. "Who are they?"

"Not sure, sir… wait! Incoming message!"

"Payne to Colonel Fetherbay! Priority! Please Respond!" A familiar voice came from a speaker and Alby found himself grinning ear to ear.

"Payne, what's going on?" demanded Fetherbay.

"Sir! We've knocked out the enemy guns! And I've captured General Vorsilva! Well, killed him, I'm afraid, sorry about that. The enemy tanks have no orders, sir! If you hit the infantry line now…"

"I'm on it, Lieutenant! Stay where you are! We're coming to you!" Fetherbay began snapping out orders to his remaining commanders and then ordered his staff to pack up their gear and get ready to move—south.

Fetherbay caught sight of Alby and grinned through his open helmet. "Your friend may have saved our bacon."

"She has a knack for doing that, sir," answered Alby.

[Scene Break]

"… Stay where you are! We're coming to you!"

"Yes sir! We'll secure this position and provide what covering fire we can. Payne out."

"I asked you a question, soldier!" General Vorsilva was still talking to her.

"He looks kinda pissed," said Private Kerbeck. Anny quickly looked to make sure that was on the secure circuit. She activated the external speaker again. "Lieutenant Payne, sir, C Company."

"Open your damn helmet when you're talking to me!"

Anny flipped up her visor and the General blinked in surprise. "You!"

"Uh, yes, sir, Andreanne Payne, C Company."

"How'd you get here? What sort of trick did you pull?"

"We just took cover and let your forces pass us by, sir. Then we followed and attacked."

"Bullshit! There's no way we could have missed seeing you!"

"Sorry, sir, but that's what we did."

"I don't believe you! This is some damn cheat by Fetherbay! But I'll get to the bottom of it! Joegen! Call General Uhlrich! Use the emergency circuit!"

Anny started edging backwards. "I have to go, sir, I have my orders."

"Stay right where you are, damn it!"

"Sorry, sir, as long as the exercise is running I don't take orders from enemy officers. And anyway, you're dead, sir." She flipped down her visor and left the van.

She heard the general shouting after her, but she didn't stop. "Yeah, I think he was pissed," said Kerbeck.

Anny tried to put that out of her mind. Rollins and Kay were just approaching with their troops. "Casualties?" she asked.

"Not a one, sir!" said Kay. "They never knew what hit them!"

"Good. Now listen up. What's left of the Regiment will be punching through the 139th and coming right through here. We need to clean out any remaining resistance and make sure they have a clear path. Those tanks will probably be right on their tails so there can't be any delay. I imagine the Colonel will be ordering us to disperse into the hills, but be ready for anything. All right, let's move."

She spread her troops out in a long line just south of where the enemy artillery had been. They took out a few scattered enemy troops but the opposition appeared confused. Once she had her line set, she could just stand there and watch the show on her tactical display.

It was beautiful.

With hardly any delay, the 61st charged out of their perimeter and slashed through the leaderless troops of the 139th. Their tanks were off to the north, their artillery was silent and their commanders were dead. 'Hot knife through butter' seemed a particularly apt expression just then. The assault troopers in their battle armor overran the unarmored infantry in a matter of minutes. A few companies, the ones trailing behind the tanks, were spared, but the rest of the 139th was routed.

Once through the line, the 61st bounded south as fast as their suits would carry them. The enemy tanks, after milling about in confusion for critical minutes, began their pursuit, but couldn't catch up. Thirty minutes after Anny had so rudely interrupted General Vorsilva, Colonel Fetherbay bounced up to her, raised his visor, and shook her hand.

"Well done, Lieutenant!" he said with a smile. "I'd ask you how you did it, but we don't have time for that now. We'll talk later. Now, if you'll cover our retreat—excuse me, our advance in another direction—we'll get the hell out of here!"

"My pleasure, sir."

[Scene Break]

Officially they had still lost.

But nobody in the 61st cared.

Jer Naddel watched the celebrating officers of the Regiment, leaned back in his chair and smiled. The Regimental Mess had never seemed so lively as it did tonight. Jer had heard that General Vorsilva had lodged a protest against Anny's surprise move, but that he'd been overruled. There was nothing illegal about what Anny had done and the results would stand. The _official_ results stated that the defending forces, the 25th Brigade, had successfully defeated the enemy landing force, overrun the landing zone, and stopped the invasion and thus won the exercise. But with the only effective combat unit left to the 25th being the five surviving tanks of the 283rd, you'd never convince anyone in the 61st that they'd lost. True, they'd lost almost 70% of their troops, but they were still an organized combat force. They hadn't been wiped out and they hadn't been forced to surrender.

Thanks to Anny.

There she was, up by Fetherbay's table, being toasted again. Men were crowded around her with raised glasses and jubilant faces. This had been going on for an hour or more. He'd scarcely had a chance to talk to her all evening, but he didn't mind. This was her night. She'd earned it and he was so damn proud of her. If there had been any doubters in the Regiment, they were all gone now. Well, almost all gone. There was Vorkerkas glowering in a corner. But he was alone. Good.

"Wow! What a party!" exclaimed Alby, as he plopped into a seat next to Jer. "Looks like this could go on all night!"

"I think it's supposed to," replied Jer. He nearly had to shout to make himself heard. "Fetherbay has cancelled all duty for tomorrow. We'll need a day to sober up after this!"

"Good! I think I shall get even drunker than I am!"

Jer laughed. "I may get a bit potted myself. But what was it like at Regimental HQ during the battle? I could sort of follow along by watching the tactical display after I'd been killed, but you must have had a real good look."

"Oh yeah! It was quite a show. But I've got to hand it to Fetherbay, he's one cool customer. Even after it was obvious that we'd been set up to lose, he never got angry or lost control. And oh, man, when we got the call from Anny telling us that she'd bagged the enemy guns and Vorsilva! Fetherbay didn't waste a second. We were off and moving within a few minutes. Glad I still had my skimmer or I never would have kept up."

"I like the Colonel."

"Yeah, me, too. I wouldn't mind working for him once I'm done with this bloody simulator project."

"Regimental staff?"

"Why not? I think I'd be good there. Hell, the next time something like this happens I'll just hack into the main tactical computer and add the home fleet and the Guards Division to our side!"

"Wouldn't Vorsilva love that! Whoops! Speak of the devil!" Jer sat up. General Vorsilva and Colonel Downes had just entered the Mess. There was another high ranking officer with them. The noise level dropped as more and more people noticed them. "Who's that with Vorsilva?"

"Must be General Uhlrich: he was the chief observer for the exercise."

The crowd parted before the trio and they moved toward the head table. Jer saw Anny try to fade into the background, but Fetherbay led her forward to meet the generals. "General Uhlrich, General Vorsilva, Colonel Downes, welcome to the 61st's Mess," he said.

"Good to see you again, Tony!" boomed Uhlrich, who was a tall, barrel-chested man. He looked around at the celebrating officers and grinned. "Didn't anyone tell you you'd lost the exercise?"

"We received a communication to that effect, sir, but it was clearly a mistake," replied Fetherbay. "I'm expecting a correction any time."

Uhlrich laughed. "Yes, things didn't turn out quite how we'd planned!" He swung his gaze around to take in most of the assembled officers. "As I'm sure you figured out pretty quickly, the exercise was deliberately set up to be very unbalanced. Battles rarely go according to plan, gentlemen. The intention was give the 61st an overdose of battlefield 'friction' while at the same time giving the rest of your brigade an example of how to contain and wipe out a hostile landing."

"Yes, sir," said Fetherbay.

"Ah, and here's the one who screwed it all up!" cried Uhlrich, catching sight of Anny.

"Yes, General, let me introduce Lieutenant Payne," said Fetherbay.

"Good to meet you, sir," said Anny, shaking hands.

"And I you, Lieutenant! And I you! That was damn sneaky of you! But well done! Very well done!"

"Thank you, sir. Sorry if I messed up your plans."

"Oh, don't be! Friction works both ways, after all! And I think some valuable lessons were learned on both sides. Don't you, General?" Uhlrich looked to Vorsilva, who hadn't cracked a smile the whole time.

"Of course, sir," said Vorsilva. "But I have a question for the Lieutenant."

"Sir?" said Anny.

"Yes, I just wanted know that if this has been real would you still have done it? Some might consider what you did extremely reckless. If it hadn't worked—if you hadn't been lucky—you and your whole platoon would have been killed or captured without the chance to fire a shot. Anyone can be brave and daring when there's no real danger. But if it had been real, would you have done this?"

The noise level in the Mess fell to almost nothing. Anny's face was dead neutral, but Jer knew her well enough to be sure that there was some anger below the surface. Vorsilva was trying to belittle her accomplishment, even make it look like a mistake rather than smart move!

"Well, Lieutenant?"

"Given an identical tactical situation, sir," said Anny, "then yes, sir, I think I would."

"Really?" Vorsilva sounded skeptical. "You'd throw away all the men under your command?"

"Sir, as I read the situation, my platoon was in a hopeless situation anyway. We had become separated from the rest of the regiment and the only other line of withdrawal would have exposed us to so much enemy fire I doubted more than a handful of us would have survived. And we wouldn't have done any corresponding damage to the enemy. I knew my plan was risky, but it seemed the best chance to keep my men alive—and hurt the enemy at the same time."

"And so it turned out!" said General Uhlrich loudly. He slapped Vorsilva on the back and then Anny, too. "Fortune favors the bold, eh? But my glass seems to be empty—hell, I don't even have a glass! Can someone correct that?" In an eyeblink, someone had supplied Uhlrich with a full glass. He held it up. "Gentlemen! To good fortune and bold, young officers!"

"_Hear, hear!" _

Everyone joined in the toast and the celebration started again. With the generals distracting Fetherbay, Anny managed to escape and make her way back to Jer. "Whew!" she said dramatically, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. "Never thought I'd get away!"

"Well, relax and have a drink!" said Alby. "You've earned it." He snagged a glass from a passing steward and handed it to her.

"Thanks. Wow, I hope I haven't pissed off Vorsilva too much."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll get over it," said Jer. "You're part of his brigade, after all. Once he's had a chance to think, he'll be glad to have you."

"I hope so."

"Yeah, me, too," said Alby, looking far too serious for the occasion.

"Now what?"

"Well, I looked up Vorsilva's record. It seems that when he was at the Academy he tried to get into the assault troops—and didn't make it. Maybe he's got a grudge against them."

"He did seem awfully satisfied about the exercise—just before I captured him," said Anny.

"Well, don't worry about it. Fetherbay—and most everyone else around here—couldn't be happier," said Jer. "They're the ones you have to deal with everyday. Don't worry about Vorsilva."

"He's probably right," said Alby. "So drink up! Let's enjoy ourselves!"

And so they did. After a while, the band started playing and an area was cleared in the gymnasium and the officers who had wives or girlfriends started dancing. Getting up his nerve, Jer asked Anny to dance. She hesitated at first, but eventually gave in. They hadn't danced since the formal ball in their senior year at the Academy. It had been kind of awkward at first, and it felt the same way here. Pretty much everyone had stopped to stare at the two uniformed officers dancing with each other. But then Anny grinned at him and he grinned back. _Hell, let them stare! _After that, they relaxed and it was a lot of fun. Later, Alby asked Anny to dance and she agreed and that opened the floodgates. It seemed like everyone wanted to dance with Anny. Well, almost everyone. But she reserved enough dances for Jer that he didn't feel neglected.

"That is one hell of a woman you've got there, Naddel," said Sven Estaban, after he'd had his dance.

"You're right about that," he replied in satisfaction.

"One hell of a woman."

[Scene Break]

Someone was pounding on the door and every thump seemed to be transmitted directly to Anny's brain. Crap. What time was it? How much had she had to drink? Where the hell was she? She heard Jer groan and felt him move and then she remembered that she'd spent the night with him. Or as much of the night as was left after they'd left the Mess. The stairs up to her room had seemed far too daunting in her condition so she'd accepted Jer's offer to stay in his room. She couldn't even remember if they'd made love so she must have really been smashed.

"Lieutenant Payne, are you in there?" A voice came through the door.

"Wha?" she mumbled. "Yeah… Whozzat?"

"Uh, Corporal Fletcher, sir. From brigade headquarters. I've got orders to bring you up there. I've been looking all over for you, sir."

"What the hell for?' growled Jer.

"Damn, damn…_Damn_!" Anny tried to roll out of the bed, got her legs tangled in the sheets, and fell flat on her face. "Ow!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…" She staggered up and headed for the door, realized she wasn't wearing anything except a t-shirt and stopped to try and sort out her clothes from Jer's scattered on the floor. Jer tottered past her to the door, opened it a crack and looked out.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Uh… I need to bring Lieutenant Payne to HQ, sir. They've been comming her and she hasn't answered."

"Oh, right. You got a vehicle?"

"Parked outside, sir."

"Wait there, she'll be out in ten minutes."

"They want her right away."

"Ten minutes or you'll have to take her there naked, Corporal."

"Oh, okay, I'll wait."

Jer shut the door and turned. "Use the shower here. I'll take your key and get you a fresh set of greens."

"Great. Thanks, love." She wove her way into the bathroom and turned on the shower and let it splash all over her. She scrubbed herself, washed her hair, and then turned the temperature to as cold as she could stand, shocking herself awake. By the time she emerged Jer was back with her uniform and—bless the man—a cup of coffee and a painkiller.

"What do you suppose this is about?" asked Jer as she dressed.

"No clue. But I doubt that it's good news."

"Pessimist."

"Always."

She gulped down the last of the coffee, put on her cap and went out the door. "Later."

The corporal was sitting in the utility vehicle and Anny took the seat next to him. "How long have they been looking for me?"

"About forty minutes, sir," he replied as he pressed the accelerator.

"Sorry, I was unconscious."

"Yes sir."

"Who, exactly is looking for me?"

"Captain Vordranov, sir."

Anny frowned. That was Vorsilva's chief of staff… "Why is he looking for me?"

"No idea, sir."

_Great._

They arrived at the HQ building, which was considerably larger than the regimental HQ. Anny had only ever been here once before on an errand for Vorstang. She got out of the vehicle and went up the steps to the front door. The 61st might have the day off, but it was business as usual at Brigade. She went inside and asked how to find Captain Vordranov's office. She got there and then had to wait twenty minutes before he would see her. Finally she was let in. She came to attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Payne, reporting as ordered."

"You're late," growled Vordranov, a harried-looking officer of middle years.

"Sorry, sir." She knew it was no use to make excuses.

Vordranov searched through the flimsies on his desk, found one and thrust it at her. "Payne, you are being detached from the 61st and assigned here."

"_What?"_ she gasped.

"You heard me. You'll be the acting S-9 officer. Watkins!" Vordranov shouted the last bit so suddenly Anny flinched. _Detached…?_ An enlisted man who looked even more harried than Vordranov popped into the office.

"Sir?"

"Take Payne down to the S-9 office. She's taking over there."

"Yes sir. Lieutenant? If you'd follow me?" In a daze, Anny followed the man into the corridor. _S-9? What the hell is S-9?_

S-1 was Personnel & Administration… S-2 Intelligence/Security… S-3 Operations… S-4 Logistics… As she went down the hallway she saw the labeled office doors. So she was being assigned to the brigade staff? She was losing her platoon? For how long? Why? And what was S-9?

S-7 Training… S-8 Finance/Payroll… They reached the end of the hallway and she looked at the door.

"Public Relation!?" she exclaimed.

"Yes sir," said Watkins. "S-9, Public Relations."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"**I**sn't there anything you can do, sir?"

"No, there isn't, Lieutenant," said Colonel Fetherbay. "Brigade requests people from us for various duties all the time. I've got three other officers on detached duty right now."

"But… public relations, sir? I'm an infantry officer!" Anny looked at her colonel beseechingly.

"Come, come, Lieutenant, you know that it's been a long-standing policy in the service to rotate officers between line and staff positions. It broadens their experience and lets each branch become familiar with the problems of the other. Now I'll grant that it's a bit unusual for a detachment like this so early in a career; you've only been here a few months, but there it is. General Vorsilva requested you specifically and I have no grounds to refuse the request. Public Relations has a lot of dealings with the wives and families of our soldiers and the General said…" Fetherbay rummaged around on his desk for a moment until he found a flimsy. "… and I quote: Lieutenant Payne is uniquely qualified for this post, unquote."

Anny felt a huge emptiness in the pit of her stomach. "But… am I… am I still part of the 61st, sir?"

"Yes," said Fetherbay, firmly. "You've been detached, not transferred. You are still on our rolls and will remain there. Don't worry about that. And this won't last forever, Payne, eventually you'll be back with us."

"Who will be taking over my platoon, sir?" _My platoon… mine!_

"I'm sure Vorglanov and Vorstang will figure something out. Look, Lieutenant, I can see you're not happy about this and frankly I'm not happy about having to give up a good officer even temporarily. But we live to serve the Imperium and we don't always get to choose the manner in which we serve. So for right now all I can tell you is to shut up and do as you're told and ride this out. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," sighed Anny. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me."

"I'll always make time for my people. Good luck."

Anny saluted and left Fetherbay's office, her spirits in her boots. She made her way out of the headquarters building. It was only 0730 and she could see the companies forming up to begin their day's activities. She longed to be with her platoon. But it wasn't hers anymore. She had made such good progress in winning their acceptance. And then with what they'd pulled off during the exercise, morale was so high…

The exercise. _This is Vorsilva's revenge. He's getting back at me for embarrassing him during the exercise._

That was her anger talking, she knew, but even looking at it dispassionately—or as dispassionately as she could manage at the moment—it was still likely true. But there was nothing she could do about it. And Fetherbay was right: sooner or later she'd have to learn staff work. She could never hope to rise above the rank of captain without staff experience. But public relations? She didn't even know what the hell her job _was_ now!

She watched the troopers move out and then turned toward Brigade HQ. It was quite a walk, but Brigade's day didn't even begin until 0830. She had time. As she walked along the road she could see the men of the 139th packing up. Their training month was over and they were going home. They had homes to go to, but Anny's only home now was the 61st. _What if I can't stand this? What if I'm stuck there for years and years? Or forever? I've got nowhere else to go._

It was a daunting thought. For years her only goal had been to make it into the Academy and then through the Academy and get her commission. But now that she'd accomplished that, what if she didn't like the service? What if she got stuck in some boring job that she came to hate? What else could she do? _Well, Elena said the Dendarii would probably hire me… do they have public relations officers, too?_

She shook herself and took a deep breath. _Stop whining, girl! You survived four years of bullshit at the Academy that was ten times worse than this! Just do your job and be patient!_ It was good advice, but not very satisfying.

She reached the HQ building and went inside. She was still early and there weren't that many people around yet. She walked around the building a bit before going to her office. It was a clean and well-kept place, but it lacked the sort of history and tradition that filled the 61st's HQ and Mess. Brigades were temporary formations with frequently changing components and commanders. No one spoke proudly of the brigade they belonged to. Well, not during peacetime anyway.

More people were coming in now and a few gave her double-takes. She headed back to her office and got there just before 0830. She was pleased to see that her people were all there already. All three of them. Sergeant Elridge, Corporal Kane and Private Malakov. And her. Public Relations.

"Good morning, everyone," she said as she came through the door. She put on a cheerful expression despite her actual feelings. That was part of being an officer.

"Good morning, sir," answered all three in unison, springing to their feet. She'd met them all yesterday but now she looked them over again. Elridge was in his thirties but the other two were scarcely older than she was. Elridge was about her height, but Kane was a full head taller and skinny as a rail. Malakov was built like a tree stump and a bit shorter than her. They all looked back at her expectantly.

"Let's sit down." There were two rooms in Public Relations, a tiny inner office for her and a slightly larger space for everyone else. Three desks and three chairs and a few file cabinets pretty much filled it. Anny grabbed the spare chair from her office and sat down on it in the outer office with the other three. "Well! I'm afraid that I have no experience with public relations. I'm going to need you three to help me get up to speed. So, tell me: what exactly do we do here?"

The three men looked at each other for a moment before Elridge replied. "Well, sir, we're basically the Complaint Department."

"Complaint Department? What sort of complaints? And who's complaining?"

"It breaks down into four categories, sir," said Corporal Kane. "A big chunk of them come from the enlisted men and their families living in the housing complex. Broken heaters, clogged drains, peeling paint, that sort of thing."

"But surely that's the responsibility of the Quartermaster and Physical Plant, isn't it?"

"Oh sure, the work is, sir, and the requests for work go to them and they get the work done—most of the time. It's when the work doesn't get done or doesn't get done right that we get involved."

"Oh, I see," said Anny.

"Yeah, we have th' job to nag people," said Private Malakov.

"The next sort is complaints by our folks about the townspeople. Vandalism, trash left in our areas…"

"Why would they do that?" asked Anny.

"Our trash pick-up is free: the townspeople hafta pay for it," said Malakov.

"Yes," continued Kane. "And then there are also complaints about townspeople harassing our women or kids, fights, noisy neighbors, that sort of thing."

"The local police—or our MPs can't handle that?"

"It's like the first category, sir: it only comes to us if the other folks don't handle it. The third category is just the reverse and it's a lot bigger: complaints by the townspeople against our people. Bar fights, rowdy behavior, damaged property, pretty much anything we do that they don't like. Serious stuff, like injuries, go to the Provost and we don't usually see any of those, but a lot of the minor stuff will end up in our lap."

"Yeah, all the crap the Provost's people don't wanna bother with," said Malakov.

"Ah. So what's the fourth category?"

Kane seemed embarrassed. Anny looked at Elridge, who grimaced. "Well, sir, those are complaints by our people against others of our people."

"Oh…"

"A lot of it's trivial stuff , like in the other categories, but some of it's more serious…"

"Such as?" asked Anny, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Domestic disputes, sir," said Kane. "Men beating up their wives or girlfriends or their kids. Women beating up their kids or neglecting them. If it's men beating up other men the Provost mostly handles it, but when it comes to this other stuff, they shove it off on us."

"And they expect us to be able to do somethin' about it!" said Malakov shaking his head.

"Oh dear. There's no social workers or…?"

"They have some people at the local hospital that can give help sometimes, but it's sort of a mess. And then some of the families get into financial difficulties, sir. Men gamble or drink away their pay and can't support their families. The Payroll Department handles some of those cases, but sometimes it does end up in our lap—especially when it's a woman whose man is off with the fleet."

"How many of these complaints come in a week?" asked Anny, feeling overwhelmed.

"A couple dozen, sir," said Elridge. "Except…"

"Except what?"

"Well, Ensign Parker used to have your job, but he managed to weasel… er, he was transferred out a few months ago and they didn't find a replacement until now. And a lot of these complaints need an officer to handle and we didn't have one so… so…"

"They kinda stacked up," said Malakov.

"Uh, yeah. We're hoping that now you're here we can get rid of the backlog. Sir."

Anny sighed. This sounded like fun. "So, let's have a look at them."

"Yes sir," said Kane. He turned his chair around and grabbed a wire basket full of flimsies and handed it to her. Inwardly she groaned. The stack must have been twenty centimeters high.

She took the first flimsy and looked at it. "Complainant: Mrs. Ella Dandrin, 325 Front Street. Nature of complaint: Dog owned by Sergeant Malcom Girgank, F Company, severely damaged Mrs. Dandrin's flower bed. Compensation desired: 50 marks or two hours labor to effect repairs."

Anny sighed again. "Well, let's get to it."

[Scene Break]

"It won't last forever, Anny." Jer looked at the woman he loved and reached out and squeezed her hand. "You survived a lot worse than this, girl. A lot worse!"

"I know and I keep telling myself that. But it's just so… I don't know. It finally seemed like everything was coming together and now this. I probably won't be able to go to the fleet with 1st Battalion next year and by the time I am allowed to come back, I'll probably be assigned to some other company and have to start all over again."

"Well, at least that gives us a little more time together."

"True," she said and smiled at him. She was sitting on one end of his bed while he was on the other.

"Who's running your platoon?"

"Technically, Kay is in command, but I've heard that First Sergeant Nikolaidis is keeping a very close watch on him. I had a little talk with Vorstang before I left."

"And just how is the work at Public Relations? Frustrating? Boring?" _Pointless?_

"I'm not sure. Some of the bureaucratic bullshit can be pretty frustrating, but the variety of things I have to deal with keeps it from getting too boring. Still, some of it is pretty… hard." Jer looked closely at Anny's face. Something in her tone made him think that 'hard' didn't just mean complicated.

"Hard?"

Anny sighed. "Yesterday I went and visited a woman who had been beaten to a pulp by her husband. Bruises all over her face. The complaint had been sent in by a friend but this woman refused to admit that anything had happened. She 'fell down' is all she'd say. She won't press charges and there wasn't really anything I could do. I passed along what I'd found to this guy's CO, but I doubt anything will be done. And she's not the only one like that, either."

"That's… disturbing," said Jer, shocked. "I never realized that there was a lot of that stuff going on."

Anny shrugged. "Peacetime army. The men get bored, despite all that we can do to keep them busy, then they get drunk and… well, we've trained them to use violence. So they do."

"Damn…"

"I don't know how much good I'm going to be able to do with that sort of thing, but maybe I can at least get the smaller stuff sorted out. Just this week we managed to work through almost a third of the backlog that had built up. But those other things…" She shook her head and frowned.

Jer squeezed Anny's hand again. He could sense her frustration at not being able to solve _every_ problem. That was her nature: a burning desire for perfection. "_Everything done well for the glory of God" _was how she put it, although he knew that was a quote from Countess Vorkosigan. Anny didn't seem to have any deep religious beliefs that Jer had ever noticed, but her drive to make everything right was almost the same thing. Perfectionism led some officers to become martinets, hounding their subordinates to distraction. Anny was no martinet; instead she set a standard for herself and silently dared her subordinates _not_ to follow. At the Academy, it had worked and her company had been the best in the battalion (in Jer's humble opinion). Here with the 61st, it looked like she had been accomplishing the same thing with her platoon. But how could such a thing work to keep men from beating their wives?

He was trying to think of something to say when there was a knocking on his door, which opened immediately. Alby was there with Sven Estaban. "Hey guys! Ready to go look at our new abode?"

"Oh, uh, sure," said Jer. He'd forgotten that Alby wanted to go inspect the house he wanted to buy today. With the reservists gone, it was vacant again. They followed Alby out and were soon on a bus heading into town. From the town square, Alby took them to his realtor, who gave them the key to the house. From there it was only a short walk to the house itself. Alby let them in and they walked around inside. The place wasn't new, but it was well-maintained and freshly cleaned after its recent occupants had left. There was a nice kitchen and common room and he and Anny would have their own bedroom and bath.

"I can get a yard service to take care of the lawn and the gardens," said Alby. "With the two dog-robbers to take care of the laundry and groceries and some of the cooking, it will be great, don't you think?"

"For what you plan to charge us, it will be a huge bargain," said Estaban. "I'm for it."

"Jer? Anny?" asked Alby. "You okay with this?"

Jer looked to Anny. She'd been getting quieter and quieter. "Anny?"

She grimaced and looked at Alby. "Alby? I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

"What? Why not? I thought we had this all worked out!" Alby looked surprised and annoyed.

"Let her talk," said Jer. "Anny?"

She took a breath and gave him a tiny smile that faded immediately. "You all know about my new assignment. It's taken me away from the Regiment. I don't like that and I'm worried that I might have a hard time getting back. So I've decided that I'm going to do everything I can to stay close. I'm going to attend dress parade every day; I'm going to join one of the fencing teams; I'll keep eating at the Officers' Mess… and I want to keep living in the BOQ. I'm sorry to mess up your plans, Alby, but I really have to do this."

"And where you go—or stay—so goes Jer, I'd assume." Alby didn't look happy, but his anger seemed to be fading.

"Yup, pretty much," said Jer. He wasn't surprised that Anny had made this decision. He was a little relieved, in fact.

Alby looked at Estaban. "Sven, I could still do this if you want."

Estaban looked around skeptically. "This place is way too big for just the two of us. Unless you wanted to invite some other officers to join us. Maybe we should just wait on this."

Alby tapped his fingers against the side of his trousers in frustration. "Yeah, all right."

"I'm sorry, Alby," said Anny.

"No… no, I was just over-eager on this. We can wait; you guys can save some money; and we can try this again once you're back with the regiment. We've got time. Of course you—we—still have to consider dear old Vorkerkas and his friends."

"We'll deal with that," said Jer. Privately, he hoped they could.

[Scene Break]

"… and the 283rd should have their other six tanks back in mothballs by the end of the week, sir. I'm afraid the 139th left a bit of a mess in their barracks when they moved out, in spite of all the orders we issued directing them not to. I've alerted the cleaning staff and we'll get that taken care of and finish winterizing the unoccupied buildings. No problem getting it done before the first snows."

"Good," said General Vorsilva. "Ernest? What's the supply situation?"

Anny sat nervously at the far end of the conference table and listened to the other members of the brigade staff make their reports. She'd been very surprised to learn that she was expected to attend the weekly staff meetings. The S-9 office seemed to be so completely out of sight and out of mind that she'd assumed the General would want to keep it that way.

She listened carefully to each of the other officers. Since she was supposedly here to learn she might as well learn. And who knew, perhaps one of these other staff officers might escape back to their real units and leave a vacancy Anny could move into. Operations, Planning, even Training would be more interesting than Public Relations!

Finally it was her turn. The General turned his eyes on her. "So, Miss Payne," he said pleasantly, "How are things in your department? Getting settled in?"

"Yes, sir," she replied just as pleasantly. "There was quite a backlog left by the departure of the previous S-9 officer but we are getting that all cleaned up. The men in the department all know their jobs very well."

"Good," said Vorsilva. "So no problems to report? Any complaints?" He looked at her with a strange expression and she hesitated before replying.

"No sir, nothing out of the ordinary, anyway." She certainly had plenty of problems, but she didn't think Vorsilva wanted a list of them.

"Indeed? Well, as it happens I've received a complaint about _you_."

"Sir?" Anny sat up straighter with a queasy feeling in her stomach.

"Yes, from Captain Vortravis of the 319th Engineering Company. He says that you demanded to see one of his men about some sort of domestic… dispute. Is this true, Lieutenant?"

"I went to Captain Vortravis, yes sir. I explained the situation to him and suggested that a face-to-face meeting with Corporal Skolnikov might be productive… The Captain didn't agree." _And he just about threw me out on my ear._

"As well he shouldn't!" snapped Vorsilva. "You've got no business interfering in someone else's command! And just why the devil were you involved with this in the first place? Surely any sort of incident of this nature is a matter for the Provost!"

"The… the complaint form was there along with all the rest, sir. It had been forwarded to my office from the Provost, so I had to assume that I was expected to deal with it."

Vorsilva's head whipped around to look at the Provost officer. "That true, Petrov?"

"Uh, yes sir," said the startled officer. "Standard procedure, sir, any domestic complaint, violent or otherwise, goes to S-9. Always been that way, sir."

"I see," growled the general. "Very well, then, Lieutenant Payne, you will continue to deal with matters of this kind. However, you are not authorized to approach any man in the brigade on an individual basis. Understood?"

"Yes sir. But how am I supposed to deal with these problems then, sir?"

"That's your problem, Lieutenant! Send copies of the complaint to the man's CO. Distribute some pamphlets. Use your head! Got it?"

"Yes. sir." She had been sending copies of the complaints—even her predecessor had done that—but she hadn't been getting any results. But the message from the General was clear: shut up and do your job!

So she did her job—or tried to. Over the next few weeks she and her men got caught up on all the backlog, but it seemed as though they had been sucked into a feedback loop. As word got around that complaints were actually being dealt with again, it only encouraged people to send in more of them. Anny's 'In' basket started filling faster than she could empty it.

And even dealing with the routine problems started landing her in trouble.

"Miss Payne," said General Vorsilva a month later, "over the last four weeks you've submitted a hundred and forty-three requests for maintenance to the Quartermaster. Are you under the impression that they have nothing better to do than fix leaky faucets in the family units?"

"No sir, but…"

"I can assure you they do have better things to do, Lieutenant! Part of your job is to screen out the frivolous complaints! Not to just pass them all along! A corporal could pass them along! I've ordered Captain Florkowski to send all of those requests back to you. You are to personally investigate each and every one of those and only pass along those that are genuinely urgent. Perhaps one in three might fit that category! You understand me?"

"Yes sir," said Anny, silently gritting her teeth. She _had_ investigated most of the complaints and she _had_ only sent along those that seemed legitimate. But there was no use telling Vorsilva that.

"And that brings me to the next point, Lieutenant," continued the General, pulling out a flimsy from his pile. He looked at it and then at her. "Thirty-six requests for payment! You've sent thirty-six requests for payment to the Paymaster! Totaling eight hundred and fourteen marks! Payments to civilians! What in God's name do you think you are doing, girl?"

"I… General, the operating procedures for my department state that any legitimate claims for damages caused by military personnel to civilian property should be paid by…"

"Don't quote regulations to me, Lieutenant!" snapped Vorsilva. "Your job is to smooth the relations between the civilians and us! Not bankrupt the Empire!" Vorsilva leaned back in his chair. "Since you don't seem to be able to understand this, I'm going to spell it out for you in very small words: Keep the civilians happy. Don't spend our money. Don't waste our time! That's all! That is the full extent of your job! Is that clear, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir. Perfectly clear."

"Good! Now, moving on to other matters…"

[Scene Break]

"But you said I'd be paid for the damage!"

Anny looked at the angry face on her comconsoles screen and sighed. "I'm sorry, Mister Mugwait, I put in the request for payment but it has been refused. I'm afraid there is nothing more I can do."

"Nothing? Nothing! I'm out eighty marks in damages done by your soldiers and there's nothing you can do?" The man sounded outraged.

"If you'd called the Patrol and they'd been caught in the act, the damage could have been taken out of the men's pay but since you didn't…"

"I _did_ call the patrol! But they were gone by the time it arrived!"

"I'm sorry but…"

"You promised me! I thought you had honor. But I guess I was wrong, wasn't I?" The man cut the connection. Anny stared at the blank screen. _Don't make promises you can't keep._ The worst of it was that she _had_ promised the man that he'd be paid. It had all seemed routine until Vorsilva overruled her. And Mugwait wasn't the only one she'd made promises to. _Great._

It was quitting time. She shut down the comconsole and left her office. Her staff were all getting ready to leave, too. She locked the door to the main office behind her.

"See you tomorrow, sir," said Corporal Kane.

She left the brigade HQ and got into a utility vehicle. One of the few perks that came with her job was that she rated her own vehicle due to all the time she needed to spend in town. A lot of officers owned their own vehicles, but she couldn't afford one. She sped back to her quarters and put on her dress greens and made it to the parade ground in time for dress parade. She stood with the other commissioned staff officers just as she had on her very first day with the 61st. Colonel Fetherbay had made no objection to her being there although most detached officers rarely bothered.

As the parade finished up and they were dismissed, she looked at the sunset. The days were getting shorter with the end of summer. By the end of autumn, the time for dress parade would be moved up by an hour and she wouldn't be able to make them anymore without skipping out from work early. Maybe she could make some arrangement to come in early and leave early. It was stupid, really, she was just a spectator with no function, but she wanted to be here. She wanted to at least feel like a soldier once in a while.

She met Jer and Alby and Sven Estaban at the Officer's Mess for dinner as she always did. Jer and Sven talked about their days with their platoons, Alby talked about the simulator project—which finally seemed to be making some progress. Anny didn't say much. What was there to say?

After dinner, she changed into her fencing gear. It was her night for practice. She'd continued to work with Ensign Vorgard and she had made a lot of progress. Fencing seemed just the thing to work out her frustration. She was still just a beginner, but she'd qualified for one of the junior teams and had done well in a couple of matches. She had tried a number of different weapons, but seemed drawn to the sabre.

"Well done, Anny!" said Vorgard after one particularly hard-fought touch. "I think we're going to have to find you a new teacher soon. I can't teach you much more with a sabre. I'm a foil man myself."

"Thanks, Eric," said Anny, removing her helmet. "Can you suggest anyone?"

Now Vorgard looked embarrassed. "Well, the one I'd recommend for anyone else probably wouldn't be a good choice for you…"

"Vorkerkas?" She looked to where the man was practicing.

"Yeah, he's really good, but I know you'd prefer to steer clear of him. That being the case, I'd suggest Major Waski."

"Really?" Anny was surprised; she rarely saw Waski at practice.

"He was the regimental sabre champion a few years back… well, more than a few. But I bet he could help you."

"Okay, I'll ask him. Thanks. Ready for another go?"

"Sure." They put their helmets back on and practiced for another twenty minutes. Anny had worked up a good sweat by the end of it. She was getting ready to put away her gear when she saw Vorkerkas and several of his friends heading her way. _Great. Now what?_

"So, Payne, still pretending to be a soldier?" one of them asked. She didn't answer.

"Oh, don't be so condescending, Georg," said Vorkerkas. "While we've been out playing with our toys, Payne here has been waging a _real_ battle. She's trying to get the troopers to stop beating up their frills. You should see the fierce memos she's fired off!"

The others all laughed loudly. "A hopeless battle, that one!"

"Yes, soldiers have always beat their women. It's traditional!"

"Does 'em good!"

"Yeah, Payne you ought to experience a beating sometime and see. Bet it does you some good, too!"

"No chance of that," laughed Vorkerkas. "It would take a real man and she doesn't have one!" The others roared again.

Anny clenched her fists but forced herself not to reply. But she couldn't keep the fury off her face and Vorkerkas saw it and grinned. "I understand you've gotten pretty good with a sabre, Payne. Want to renew our match?"

There was nothing she'd like better, but she knew she wasn't ready. "Not tonight, sir," she said as evenly as she could. "Perhaps another time."

Vorkerkas laughed. "Yes, another time." He and his friends moved off.

_Another time._

[Scene Break]

Anny got back to the BOQ but Jer wasn't there. She took a very long shower letting the hot water massage her muscles. Unfortunately it couldn't do anything to sooth her anger. Damn Vorkerkas! Damn Vorsilva, too! It was just like her first year at the Academy! Bullshit coming at her from every direction. Well, she'd survived that. She could survive this too.

While she was drying off she heard the incoming call beeper on her comconsole. Putting on her robe she sat down and looked at the caller identification.

_What the hell?_

The call was coming from Giverson's Store in her home town of Red Rocks! Who in the world…? She hit the accept key.

The face of a young woman materialized on the screen. It took her a moment to recognize her younger sister Jenna.

"Anny? Anny! Oh thank God I found you!"

"Jenna! What's wrong?" There were tears on her sister's face.

"Oh, Anny! Can you come home? Right away? Oh, we're in an awful fix!"


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"**Y**ou could just use that, Anny," said Jer. "No one would ever know." He sat on the chair in his room and watched Anny turning a small card over and over in her hands. It was a credit chit and it contained a very substantial sum of money.

"I'd know," she said, after a long pause.

"It's not like you'd be spending it on yourself! Your family needs help, Anny!"

"It's still against regulations. Officers aren't allowed to take money as a reward for their actions—or for any other reason for that matter."

Jer grimaced. It was true and it did make a lot of sense. Particularly on Barrayar. Over the centuries there had been many coups and revolts against the Empire. And many of them began with the conspirators buying the loyalty of military officers. There were very strict rules against officers taking money from others now. The credit chit Anny was twirling had been given to her by Lord Mark Vorkosigan for her heroic feats on the planet Dounby in their senior year at the Academy. At the time neither one of them had looked at those parts of the regulations and Anny had just kept the chit, unsure what to do with it.

"Well then, what are you going to do, Anny? This is one problem I don't think you are going to be able to solve by putting your head down and bulling through the way you usually do. You are going to need help!"

Anny sighed and looked at him. "Yeah, you're right. And I think I know where to get it."

[Scene Break]

Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan smiled and got to his feet when Pym ushered Anny Payne into the Yellow Parlor of Vorkosigan House. Tsipis, the man who managed the finances of the Vorkosigans, also rose from his chair although a bit more slowly. The man's hair was completely gray now. He'd been mumbling things about retirement lately.

"Anny! It's so good to see you again!" Miles came forward and took the woman's hands briefly.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, sir," said Anny, smiling for a moment. The woman seemed unusually nervous.

"Glad I was able to. Gregor keeps me hopping, but I was lucky to be home when you called. You know Tsipis, I think?"

"Yes, sir, we've met a few times."

"Six times, to be precise," said Tsipis. "Winterfairs mostly. Good to see you again, Lieutenant." They shook hands.

"Come, sit down," said Miles. "Can I offer you something? Ekaterin will have lunch waiting for us when we're done, though."

"Then I can wait, thank you, sir. Even the Regimental Officer's Mess can't compete with a Ma Kosti lunch." They all found chairs and Anny perched on the edge of hers like a cadet.

"So I understand your family has run into some difficulty, Anny? How can I help?"

"Well, I'm not sure that you can, sir, but I didn't know where else to turn. And my mother and sisters are citizens of your district so I thought…"

"Why don't you explain the problem, Lieutenant," said Tsipis. "I can't imagine any problem that my lord couldn't solve."

"Yes sir. Well, it's a bit complicated. My mother is a widow, my father died about six years ago. After that—after I left for the Academy—she found a boyfriend, a man named Monti Heinz. He moved in with her on our farm. Even though they didn't marry, my mother sort of turned everything over to him. Anyway, a few weeks ago he sold the farm, took the money and disappeared. My mother didn't find out what he'd done until the person he'd sold it to showed up and gave her and my sisters a week to pack up and leave."

Miles frowned and clenched his fist. "The bastard. Heinz, I mean."

"Did your mother actually sign over the deed to the farm, Lieutenant?" asked Tsipis.

"I don't know, sir. My mother was sort of incoherent when I talked to her on the comconsole. Frankly, I don't know that there even is a paper deed. My family has lived there for nine generations."

"Yes, the lack of records is often a problem in the Dendarii Mountains," said Tsipis, nodding. "Nearly all the records that existed for the Time of Isolation were lost during the Cetagandan Occupation…"

"Vaporized along with Vorkosigan Vashnoi," muttered Miles.

"Yes, and even now far too much of the business done there is based on a handshake rather than a contract."

"Well, if there's no paperwork and you mother didn't approve, I'd have to think that the sale was illegal," said Miles. "We ought to be able to get it reversed without much trouble…"

"Possibly, my lord," said Tsipis, who raised an eyebrow in caution. "I should say that you certainly _can_ reverse it in either your capacity as your father's Voice or as an Imperial Auditor, but as for how much trouble it might cause… I don't have to remind you, my lord, of how strong-willed the Dendarii hillsmen are. If the buyer feels that he's been wronged…" Tsipis shrugged.

"Just how much money are we talking about, Anny?"

She named a sum and Miles snorted. "A pittance. I'd say just pay off the buyer now and worry about tracking down this Heinz character at our leisure."

"My lord, I can't ask you to…"

"Anny, if it was ten times as much, it wouldn't make a dent in what I owe you!"

"Well, that's not really the point, sir." Anny was looking very nervous and Miles watched as she pulled a credit chit out of her pocket. "I… I made a mistake on my apprentice cruise. On the way back home I met your brother on Hegan Hub…"

"Yes, he mentioned that to me."

"Well, he was very happy with what had happened on Dounby and he wanted to thank me for it…"

"As well he should!"

"Uh, and he gave me this, sir. I should have just refused it, but I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time. It's a lot of money, sir, and by the regulations I can't accept it. By those same regulations, I shouldn't accept any money from you, even if it is to help my family."

Miles frowned. "I don't think the cases are really the same, Anny. This wouldn't be a reward and wouldn't directly benefit you. And if we can get the original sum of money back again, it would be like it never happened. Right, Tsipis?"

The man pulled at his chin. "I'd have to look into it, my lord. I'm not that familiar with the military regulations. But frankly, if you, as your father, the Count's Voice decided to assist a widow living in your district, I can't imagine that it's any business of the military's."

"There, you see? And even if I can't do it as my father's Voice, I can damn well do it as an Imperial Auditor. I don't have to answer to anyone but Gregor about that!"

"If you can do something, sir, I'd be very, very grateful. And if you could take this off my hands, I'd appreciate it, too." She held out the credit chit and Miles took it.

"Anny, I doubt very much that anyone would have ever known about this if you'd acted cautiously."

"I'd have known, sir."

Miles grinned. "I would have wagered the full content of this chit that you were going to say that, Anny." The woman had an integrity and devotion to duty that he admired. In spite of all the crap they'd thrown at her at the Academy, she'd never once asked for any favoritism from her high-powered backers. Miles was pleased that here, finally, there was something he could help her with.

The woman smiled for a moment. "There's something else, too, sir. Before I realized I shouldn't have it, I gave some of the money away to set up a memorial fund for Zac Karal in Silvey Vale. I'm not sure what should be done about that."

"So that's where that came from! Harra Csurik told me about an 'anonymous donor' who had helped her set up a scholarship fund, but she wouldn't tell me who it was!"

"I… I hope she doesn't have to return the money, sir."

Miles waved his hand. "Relax. As far as anyone will ever know, the money came from Mark directly. Which is what the records will show, after all, even without any Auditorial slight-of-hand. In fact, if you want, I can just add the rest of this to the fund, too."

"My lord, perhaps you might want to spread Lord Mark's 'gift' around a bit," said Tsipis. "There are other needy villages in the Dendarii."

"Quite right! Good idea! Starting with a certain needy widow in, what was it? Red Rocks?"

"Yes, my lord." Anny was smiling again and this time it didn't fade. "I can't thank you enough, sir."

"Glad I can be of some help. Of course, Tsipis here will do all the real work. I'll alert the local police services to be on the lookout for that Heinz character and issue a cease-and-desist order as far as evicting your family goes." He stood up and dusted his hands. "And that should be that! Just in time for lunch!"

He escorted Anny and Tsipis down to the dining room where Ekaterin, Helen and Aral—and lunch—were waiting. Helen was especially keen to see Anny. She'd developed an attachment to her as a toddler when Anny was staying at Vorkosigan House prior to entering the Academy. It was a jolly lunch although Miles could tell from some of the answers Anny gave to Helen's endless questions that she wasn't happy about her new staff assignment. He thought back to his own initial assignment after leaving the Academy. Weather officer! On Kyrill Island! The worst assignment imaginable. He'd been hoping to be posted to the _Prince Serg_, Barrayar's biggest and newest and most powerful warship at the time. He could still feel the disappointment. But as he'd found out later, if he'd just kept his mouth shut and done his job he would have gotten his posting on the _Prince Serg_ in only a few more months.

But naturally he hadn't kept his mouth shut and he never did get that dream posting. Considering where he'd ended up, he couldn't really complain about it anymore, but he hoped that Anny would have the sense to keep her temper in check. He could pull a few strings for her if necessary, but he knew she wouldn't want that and it would be better if he didn't have to.

"Well, this has been very nice," he said as the dessert dishes were cleared away. "But I have an appointment with the Emperor shortly. Anny, do you have a way to get back to your base? How did you get here? Not the monorail, I hope!"

"No sir, I managed to grab a ride on a shuttle that was coming to Vorbarr Sultana. Not sure how I'm getting back. I'll have to check to see if there's anything headed up that way. But I don't have duty until tomorrow, so I'm sure I'll make it somehow."

"Nonsense! Pym, get Roic to take her there in the lightflyer. We can use the ground car to get to the palace."

"Very good, my lord," said the armsman.

As Anny said good bye to Helen, Ekaterin approached him. "Miles, could you take the children with you to the palace? I've set up a play date with Laisa, but there's somewhere I think I want to go."

"Sure, not a problem. But where are you going?"

"I think I'd like to go with Anny. I haven't had the chance for a real woman-to-woman talk with her in ages. And some of the things she was saying about her new job. Well, I'd like to have a talk with her."

"All right, that sounds fine. Just don't encourage her to start making waves! Stuff like this is just how the military works."

"Making waves? Heaven forbid! Where in the world would I _ever_ get any ideas about making waves?" She smiled at him and leaned over to give him a kiss.

He returned the smile and the kiss and then they both rounded up their charges and headed to the front door. Pym and Roic had their vehicles ready. Miles waited to see Roic, Anny and Ekaterin lift off and then herded the kids into the big armored ground car. Both Helen and Aral were complaining about not being able to go with their mother and Anny.

"Your mother wants some time alone with Anny," explained Miles. "Grown up talk between women. Even _I'm_ not allowed to sit in on something like that!" This mollified Helen a bit, but Aral complained that then he'd _never_ know what was going on and that wasn't fair. The ensuing discussion on the fairness of life lasted until they reached the palace. Miles dropped the children off with their royal playmates, chatted briefly with the Empress, and then he made his way to Gregor's private office.

Miles had slowly come to accept the fact that he was now one of Gregor's chief advisors. The two of them had always been able to speak to each other openly and bluntly and now that Miles' days of galactic gallivanting were behind him, they were traveling in the same circles again. In spite of himself Miles was becoming an expert on Imperial politics and policy. It was a role that his father had once filled…

The majordomo ushered Miles into Gregor's office. The Emperor was seated behind his enormous desk with the multiple comconsole displays as usual. The man had always—well almost always—been a workaholic. Marriage and parenthood had pulled him away from that for a while, but it seemed that he was being dragged back to it step by step. Miles was tempted to warn him about that except he knew Gregor would warn him about exactly the same thing in return. Old habits never really died.

"Afternoon," said Miles cheerily. "What's up?"

"Afternoon, Miles," replied the Emperor. "Have a seat." Miles complied and looked at his liege-lord expectantly. "Do you remember the discussion we had three or four months ago about the situation on Nova Paveo?"

"Hmmm? Oh, right. Hadn't heard anything about that for so long I thought maybe it was a dead issue."

"Sadly no. It seems that the Nuevo Brasilians were just marshaling their resources and making preparations. As we suspected, they aren't taking the Paveons' bid for independence lying down and it's turning just as ugly as we feared."

"Massacres?" Miles made an ugly face.

"Yes. All the usual atrocities, from the reports we're getting. And that's just from the forces they had on hand. They have a much larger force on the way. And this just came in from the Foreign Office." He handed a flimsy to Miles. "The Polians have been moving ahead with their proposal and they've managed to line up an impressive—and surprising—number of backers."

Miles looked over the list and whistled. "Beta Colony, Earth _and_ the Cetagandans? How can we possibly stay out of this now?"

"I don't see how we can," replied Gregor. "It would be a diplomatic embarrassment for us to refuse and it would also make the Cetagandans the de facto leaders of the expedition. We don't want to allow that to happen."

"Yes, we might end up just trading Nuevo Brasilian expansionism for Cetagandan. No bargain there."

"Exactly," nodded Gregor. "Barrayar must participate in this, I think. Perhaps even take the lead if we can."

"It won't be a hard sell for the military," said Miles. "They've been itching for some action for years. If we can keep the cost down, most of the counts won't have a problem with it, either. What size force are you thinking to send?"

"I've discussed it with General Vordalla and his people. They were recommending a corps-sized force, but I think we'll probably pare that down to about a reinforced division—four regiments plus support. The size of the foreign contingents will affect that, of course."

Miles smirked. "Gonna be a lot of people wanting to get in on this, Gregor. Nothing like a campaign ribbon or a medal or two to brighten up a fellow's tunic."

"As you well know, Miles," smiled Gregor. "But not everyone's going to be willing to go all the way out there. It's a four-month trip one way. But we'll leave who's going to the generals. It will be at least a couple of months before things start to move. In the meantime, I want your advice on how best to present this to the counts and the public. The humanitarian aspects will need to be played up for some audiences and the strategic implications for others."

"Yes," replied Miles. "Well, let's see what we can come up with…"

They brainstormed for over an hour and devised what seemed a good plan. A lot of other people would have to work out the details, but it was a start. Gregor leaned back in his chair and stretched. "I hope we're not making a mistake with this. The generals and the politicians and the diplomats might be all in favor, but I can't help but think about the poor sods who might end up doing the fighting and dying."

"Well, we can always hope there won't be much fighting. With half the great powers lined up against them, the EnBees might back down."

"We can hope. But the EnBees have never paid much attention to that sort of pressure before."

"I guess we'll see what happens," said Miles raising an eyebrow and smiling. "We done?"

"Yes… oh, no, not quite. One other thing was brought to my attention that I thought you might be interested in." He pulled a flimsy out of another pile and handed it to Miles. It had an ImpSec letterhead.

"Damn!" he snapped after reading it. "How can they do that? I mean he hasn't been in jail even two years! Can't you reverse this, Gregor?"

The Emperor shrugged. "It's more normal for me to pardon people, Miles, not _un_-pardon them. And he has a few strong supporters and they've pointed out that he never actually _did_ anything."

"But he planned to! He admitted it under fast-penta! It was a conspiracy!"

"True. But he did get cashiered and he did go to prison. Punishment enough, some people say."

Miles cursed again. "But what if he's looking for payback? He could be dangerous."

"I've asked ImpSec to keep an eye on him. Allegre said he would, but I can tell he's not happy about devoting resources to this."

Miles frowned. This wasn't good. But wait… "Gregor, perhaps we should take a more active role in deciding just who gets sent to Nova Paveo. We might be able to kill two birds with one stone here."

[Scene Break]

Anny watched Vorbarr Sultana dwindling below them as the lightflyer gained altitude and speed and slowly relaxed. She could scarcely believe that the issue with her family and the farm had been settled so quickly and easily! She'd known from her sisters for a while that things had become pretty rocky between her mother and Monti, but no one had been expecting this. For a while she'd been afraid she was going to have to bring her mother and sisters to Malverton and try and find them somewhere to live. Then she'd thought of Lord Vorkosigan and it had clearly been the right decision. It was an enormous load off her and she looked forward to telling her family the good news. She supposed she really ought to go visit them sometime…

They passed through a layer of clouds and the view was lost. She turned to look at the woman sitting next to her. Lady Ekaterin Vorkosigan was nearly as tall as her and with almost the same hair color although it was much longer than Anny's per-the-regulations haircut. The woman was nearly twenty years older, but she wore her years very well. Anny hoped she would look that good at her age. But why was she coming along?

"I can't begin to thank the Lord Auditor for his help," she ventured. "I didn't know what to do."

"Oh, he was glad to do it, Anny, you can be sure. He still feels a bit guilty about putting you and your friends in harm's way during the fire."

"What?" said Anny, startled. She and her company had helped to save a small village from a forest fire in her junior year. It was obvious the place was special to Lord Vorkosigan but… "We were just doing our duty."

"Yes, but he sent you there and if you'd been hurt it would have been his responsibility. He feels things like that very deeply—and he doesn't forget." Lady Ekaterin looked at her with a strange half-smile. "And he has this thing about damsels in distress."

"I… I'm hardly a damsel," protested Anny, gesturing to her uniform.

The older woman laughed. "Miles has a very broad interpretation of the term, I think." Her smile faded. She glanced forward to where Armsman Roic was piloting the lightflyer and then hit a switch and the privacy screen slid up."You never met Sergeant Taura, did you?"

"No, who is he?" replied Anny, shaking her head.

"Was. She died a few months ago."

"I, uh, I'm sorry to hear that." _She?_

"She was special to Miles. One of his old comrades from his ImpSec days. When someone becomes special to Miles, he'll move worlds for them. He's just like that. I think you've become special to him, yourself, Anny."

She felt dazed. "Is that why you came along? To tell me this?"

"No, not really. But for all the time you've spent in Vorkosigan House it seems like we've hardly ever had a chance to speak privately."

"Is… is there something else you want to talk to me about?"

"Perhaps I should be asking you that question."

"My lady?"

"Please, we're alone here. Call me Ekaterin. I know you don't want to, but try. Okay?" She smiled at her and kept smiling until Anny finally nodded her head.

"All right."

"All right what? You can say my name, can't you?"

"All right… Ekaterin."

"Good! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No worse than the old 'Yes, First Sergeant!' drill, I guess."

Lady Ekaterin actually laughed at that and in spite of herself Anny found that she was relaxing. She'd always liked Ekaterin, but as she'd said, they'd had few chances for a real conversation.

"I was hoping that you could tell me more about your new assignment, Anny. You were a bit vague answering Helen's questions at lunch."

"Oh. Well, there really isn't a lot to tell, my… Ekaterin. As one of my men described it, we're the complaint department. I'm supposed to keep the civilians—both the townspeople and the soldiers' families—happy. Sooth ruffled feathers. That sort of thing."

"Sounds like an important job."

Anny snorted before she could stop herself. "It could be, I suppose, but with the constraints put on us all we can really do is listen to problems, not solve them."

"Constraints?"

Anny shrugged. "No budget, no authority, no… cooperation."

"I see. But can you tell me about the kind of complaints you get?"

Anny tried and Ekaterin kept up a steady stream of penetrating questions and eventually she'd told her just about everything about her job. Finally she asked the woman: "Ekaterin, why are you so interested in all this?"

"What? I can't be curious about a friend's job?" she replied. "But no, you're right, I have another motive."

"Oh?"

"You know that Miles is running the district while his father is on Sergyar?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've been trying to help him as much as I can. It's a big job. I started out overseeing land reclamation projects and the like because of my interest in botany and gardening. Then I was helping repair the damage left from the forest fire. But that inevitably put me into close contact with a lot of the people in the district. People started coming to me with their problems. All-in-all it sounds like your job is very similar to mine. Except I do have a budget and quite a bit of authority."

"That's interesting," said Anny in surprise. "I never would have thought of that."

"I never expected it when I first started, either. But there are some very needy people up in those mountains—I hardly need to tell you that! I do what I can and I think we've made a lot of progress in the last few years. Especially when it comes to health care and education. Kids going to college are up, infanticides are way down."

"That's wonderful." Anny knew that there were still some spots where newborns who showed any sign of mutations were killed.

"It's rewarding work," said Ekaterin, nodding. "But we can't solve every problem. And one problem I've run into from time to time made me want to have this talk with you, Anny."

"Really? What?"

"Domestic violence."

"Oh dear…"

"You never said a word about that in the description of your job, Anny, but I can't believe that you haven't run into it at Fort Vorolson."

Anny sighed. "Yes… yes, I've run into it."

"A lot?"

"I don't know how you'd define 'a lot'. One seems too much. I've had about a dozen cases brought to my attention. And I have to believe that there are more cases where no complaint is ever filed…"

"The ratio is about five to one in my experience, maybe worse than that," said Ekaterin. There was no smile on her face.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess I suspected that."

"So what do you when you get a case like that?"

Anny sighed again and shrugged. "There really isn't much I can do. If a complaint reaches my desk it's almost always one that was filed by a friend or neighbor of the victim. With no eye-witness testimony—and usually no complaint from the victim—the provost won't take action. I have no law-enforcement authority, so it's not like I can arrest the offender. Heck, I'm not even allowed to talk to them to try and work something out."

"Not allowed?"

"I tried at first; the COs of the men involved complained that I was interfering in their commands and I was given a cease-and-desist order by the general." Anny suddenly realized what she was saying and stared at Ekaterin. "You didn't hear that from me."

"Don't worry, I won't pass that on. It's about what I expected, actually."

"Are you having similar problems in the district?"

"Yes. The old traditions die hard. Any time I've tried to deal with an individual, his friends and neighbors close ranks and nothing short of fast-penta interrogations will bring out the truth—and that's not something I want to resort to."

"So how do you deal with it?"

Ekaterin didn't answer right away. She stared out the window of the lightflyer for a few moments before looking back at Anny. "You know that I was married before I met Miles?"

"Uh, sure. Your son, Nikolai, is from your first marriage, before you were widowed."

"Yes. But what few people know is that my first marriage was… abusive."

Anny gasped and instinctively searched Ekaterin's face for bruises or scars even though she'd never seen any before.

"Not physically abusive," added Ekaterin. "But there are other forms of abuse and they can be just as destructive as actual violence." She paused again for a moment. "The worst thing—or it seems like the worst thing now—was the… hopelessness. I couldn't see any way out without breaking all those old traditions. And I felt totally alone. There was no one to turn to for help."

"I'm sorry," whispered Anny, shocked.

"Don't be. I know now that much of my problem was self-inflicted. Not because I deserved my abuse—oh, how many women fall into that trap!—but because I didn't do anything to escape it. Because that's the thing, Anny: there is help out there. Good people who will help you if you only ask and who won't think less of you if you do. When I found that help, it was like… I don't know how to describe it… it was a gift beyond price."

"But how do you find the help?" asked Anny in growing eagerness. She realized that she had desperately wanted to talk to someone about this. Another woman. Jer had been as supportive and sympathetic as she could ask for, but it wasn't enough.

"Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" said Ekaterin with a bitter smile. "Most are afraid to ask, afraid to offer, afraid of doing something… _embarrassing_."

"So how do you get around that?"

"It's not easy. Most don't even want to admit that there is a problem. So I've found that the indirect approach is the best. Get the victims involved in something else. Something that's not embarrassing. Win their trust and then… maybe… bring up the big problem. What I've tried to do in the district is set up women's groups. Groups that can provide advice and help on a wide range of subjects. Child care, better farming techniques, financial planning, health and sanitation, dozens of things. Then, once the groups are established, we start slipping in things like contraception and counseling and support services for women in abusive relationships."

"And it's working?"

"It's helping, I think. It's not a problem that we'll ever be able to solve completely, but this is a start." Ekaterin paused and looked at Anny. "I'm thinking that you might be able to do something similar where you are."

"I… yes, yes, it might work! But I'm not sure how to set something like that up…" It was an exciting idea.

"Well, you have a couple of big advantages, Anny. One is that all the people are concentrated. In the district I'm dealing with hundreds of tiny villages scattered over thousands of square kilometers and with people who rarely travel very far. Second, you've got ready-made group leaders. I couldn't run the groups I set up myself; I had to find women willing to do it. Here you've got yourself, plus the wives of the officers."

"There is already a sort of informal group among the officers' wives," said Anny, thinking back to the talk she'd given for Mrs. Fetherbay. "But it's only for them, not the enlisted men's wives.—and that's where nearly all the trouble is."

"Yes. That's what I expected," said Ekaterin. "But I guess we'll have to make some changes, won't we?"

"We?" asked Anny in surprise.

"Help, Anny. I'm offering to help. It's an amazing concept, isn't it?"


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"**I** think this will be lovely! Lady Vorkosigan is going to be so pleased!"

Anny smiled as pleasantly as she could and nodded her head idiotically in response to Lady Penelope Vorsilva's statement. Sara Fetherbay caught her eye and winked. It was three days after Ekaterin had visited the fort and Anny could scarcely believe how quickly her plan was taking shape. Upon reflection, however, she supposed she shouldn't really have been surprised that Lady Vorsilva was throwing herself into this so enthusiastically. Sara had mentioned that the woman was a socialite at heart and the chance to get into the good graces of a future countess was something she just couldn't ignore.

So the three of them were sitting at the dining room table of Vorsilva's rather lavish house making plans for setting up women's organizations for the entire brigade.

"Now we can put Dolores Waski in charge of the 2nd battalion group for the 61st and Regina Vorscans for the 283rd," continued Vorsilva, "it's a shame that that nice Captain Vorglanov isn't married—he's so handsome I can't imagine why he isn't—but maybe Louisa Vorjanis can fill in that spot for the 61st's 1st battalion, then…"

"Uh, Penny?" said Sara. "Perhaps we shouldn't automatically put the wives of the unit commanders in charge of the women's groups."

"What? Why not?" Lady Vorsilva looked puzzled.

"You remember what Lady Vorkosigan said: the women in the most need are going to be the wives of the enlistedmen. There's already a huge divide between the officer's wives and the enlisted wives. If we maintain that hierarchy in the women's organizations, I'm afraid that enlisted wives are going to be intimidated and not feel like they have any real say—or stake—in the groups. Perhaps we should just set up the groups and let the natural leaders rise to the top—no matter what rank their husbands hold."

Vorsilva looked taken back. "Oh, uh, she did mention something about that, didn't she? But I just thought that… well, I suppose we could give it a try…"

"Hello, dear, sorry I'm late but… oh, hello, what do we have here?" General Vorsilva had come into the room and stopped dead. Anny popped to her feet, but the other two women didn't move beyond turning their heads.

"Good evening, sir," said Anny. The general was wearing his undress greens, just as she was, but his tunic was open and he was obviously surprised to find her there.

"Evening, Lieutenant," replied Vorsilva, frowning. "What brings you here?"

"Honestly, Harold!" cried Lady Vorsilva. "Sometimes I don't think you listen to a word I say!"

"What?"

"I told you all about Lady Vorkosigan's visit, didn't I?"

"Yes… at length…"

"And how she suggested setting up help groups for the wives?"

"Oh, that. Yes, of course. So that's what you're doing?"

"Of course! And it's going splendidly!"

"Ah, well, good, good. But what is Lieutenant Payne doing here?" He was frowning at her and fumbling to close his tunic.

"What's she doing here?" exclaimed Lady Vorsilva. "Her job is public relations, isn't it? And that's just what these groups will be! Public relations! Anny is going to be a big part of this, Harold. And Anny, do sit down. You're not on parade!"

Anny looked awkwardly between the general and his wife and then slowly sank into her chair. The general was still frowning. "I… see," he growled. "So when's dinner?"

"Oh in a bit, in a bit. Why don't you go have a drink in your study in the meantime?"

The general grumbled something Anny couldn't catch and left the room.

"Don't mind Harold," said Lady Vorsilva. "Now where were we?"

"Talking about letting the natural leaders run the groups," said Sara. "And you know, Penny, I think we should also include some of the townswomen. Lady Vorkosigan suggested it might help in the civil-military relations."

"Oh? Well, I suppose we could…"

An hour later, at General Vorsilva's direct order to the house cook, dinner was served. Anny tried to escape, but Lady Penelope insisted that she stay. Anny felt very self-conscious and the General glared at her most of the time, but his wife kept chattering away, oblivious, it seemed.

By the time Anny and Sara Fetherbay finally left the Vorsilva house it was fully dark; the summer was past and night was coming earlier and earlier. They walked towards Fetherbay's residence along the quiet pathways. "So what do you think?" asked Sara.

"I think it's a good start. Except that I'm not sure that Lady Penelope understands that this is… isn't…"

"Isn't some sort of ladies' tea and quilting society?" Sara laughed.

"Well, yes." The more contact Anny had with Lady Penelope the more she reminded her of Lady Vorgallan, a Vor matriarch who had nearly driven Anny to distraction in her senior year at the Academy.

"She might not ever really understand, Anny. But the important thing is that she's backing this. We can get the groups set up and do some real good and if Penny thinks it's all for something different, it won't matter."

"But _you_ understand." Anny looked at Sara.

"Yes, yes I do. I'm not Vor and while I'm not from one of those desperately poor areas like you are, I'm still a lot closer to your background than Penny's. I know the challenges that our women face. And I'm thrilled that we're going to try and help them—as embarrassing as it is."

"Embarrassing?"

"Embarrassing personally." Sara looked away for a moment. "I'm the Colonel's wife, Anny. I should have been the one to think of this. Frankly, I'm ashamed that it took you and Lady Vorkosigan to see what's been staring me in the face for years."

"It's been staring everyone in the face for centuries, Sara. I saw the problem—because I had my nose rubbed in it—but I didn't see the answer either. Change is never easy." Anny was startled with where the conversation as going.

"Then I guess we both owe a debt to Lady Vorkosigan."

"From what I've seen, the whole Empire owes a lot to the Vorkosigans."

"Yes. They've been the agents of change for a long time now. But I guess it's time for the rest of us to get to work, too, eh?"

"I guess so. Can we meet again tomorrow? Uh… maybe just the two of us? To set up some schedules?"

"I think that would be good." They reached Sara's house and parted. Anny headed for her own quarters and was feeling good about what had been accomplished. She was actually doing something proactive, not just waiting to deal with each problem as they cropped up. In her tactics classes at the Academy she'd always preferred offense to defense.

And so over the next days and weeks she worked to set up the women's groups. With Lady Vorsilva's backing they got access to facilities on the base and in town that could be used for larger meetings. Once things got going smaller meetings were held in homes. Ekaterin provided copies of videos she'd acquired or had made for her groups in the district and Anny even drafted Alby into helping out with computer presentations and finding even more material from galactic sources.

Initially attendance was low, but it grew rapidly as the word spread. When Ekaterin showed up for a few meetings they could scarcely fit everyone in to the meeting places. She followed Ekaterin's plan of starting out with presentations on useful household subjects and slowly introducing more serious things. And it wasn't just instructional meetings. After she'd gotten to know some of the women and explained that many of the physical repairs or improvements that people wanted just were not in the budget, they formed volunteer groups to do the repairs and improvements themselves. This, inevitably, dragged husbands and boyfriends into the activities as well. At first there was some resistance and resentment on their part, but as time went by and everyone could see the benefits, that passed. She got a few snide remarks from some of the officers and she picked up the nickname 'Anny Homemaker' but she could put up with that.

The trickiest part was slipping in the counseling for the more serious matters. Anny had made a list of all the women who had domestic violence reports submitted about them and anxiously looked to see if any of them joined the groups. In the beginning there were none and she wondered if her hopes had been unrealistic. But after the volunteer repair groups got organized, she saw a few of the women on the list start to attend. She had to force herself to not treat them any differently than the others and possibly scare them off.

"I'm not sure how to broach the subject," she said to Sara Fetherbay one day. "I mean I can hardly walk up to them and say: By the way, does your husband still beat you?"

Sara smiled grimly and shook her head. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea. We have to go slowly, try to build up some trust and then… see what we can do."

The days passed. Anny fell into a routine and even General Vorsilva seemed satisfied with what she was doing—although she wasn't sure how much the general's wife had to do with that. She continued to work out and practice her fencing and attend dress parade. Every now and then she'd drop in on her old platoon to see how they were doing. It was painful, but at least they seemed to be glad to see her.

The autumn was half gone when one day she got a message on her comconsole. She read it and swore.

"Damn…"

[Scene Break]

"Anny! What's wrong?" Jer jumped to his feet as Anny came through his door. Her face was pale and her expression…

"Rough day," she said, shaking her head.

"What happened? I thought things were going better, that those groups you're setting up were working out pretty good!"

"Oh, yeah, they are," she said, slumping down on his bed. "Something else came up today."

"What?"

"There was a man in 3rd Battalion killed with the fleet."

"Oh, that's right! We just heard about it this afternoon! A freak accident they said. A damn shame with them on their way home and all. But what…? Oh hell!"

"Yeah, with all of the battalion's officers off-planet, guess who got to inform the wife and kids?"

"Oh, Anny!" He sat next to her and took her hand. "How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad." She sniffled and Jer could see tears welling in her eyes. "I never… when we lost all those men on Dounby, we were still three months from home and the news got here months ahead of us and we never went back to Fort Vormeyer anyway and I never had to… oh damn!" The tears were spilling out now and she angrily wiped them away. "Fine officer I am!"

"Nothing to be ashamed of," said Jer, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. He was quite certain she hadn't let anything show up until now. Holding it in… "How many… how many kids?"

"Three. One was just a toddler but the other two were old enough to understand. The woman… damn… the woman was someone I'd met at one of the groups! When she saw me at her door she thought it was something to do with that. She never suspected until I… Oh, Jer, it was like someone had punctured a balloon and all the air leaked out!"

"You had to do it alone?"

"Sergeant Elridge drove over with me, but I told him to wait in the car. The woman went almost catatonic and the kids started crying. I didn't… I didn't know what the hell to do. I stayed with them a half hour or so. It felt like hours. Then some of her neighbors came over—got the news or heard the crying I don't know which—and I left her with them." More tears were on her cheeks. "I guess… I guess I'm gonna have to add 'grief counseling' to what the groups do now, huh?"

Jer squeezed her but didn't know what to say. Other militaries had chaplains to help with things like this. But Barrayar's almost religionless society did not have things like that. "So… so how'd you get assigned the job?"

"An order came down from Brigade. The chief of staff had signed it. Don't know whose idea it was to give it to me."

"Brigade? Not regiment? I mean he was a 61st man. I would have thought…"

"Yeah, me, too. At the time I was too flustered to think about it. When I got back there was a message from Fetherbay _asking_ if I would be willing to go along when he went to see the widow. He sounded seriously pissed when I commed to tell him I'd already been ordered to see her."

"I can imagine." Why _had_ Vorsilva bypassed the normal chain of command? If it had been him. Maybe someone on his staff had just made a mistake. Or maybe they deliberately wanted to give Anny this hard duty… or… too many unknowns.

"I don't think I like this job," said Anny in a near-whisper. He could feel her shuddering.

"Anny…"

"Just hold me."

He held her.

[Scene Break]

"Lieutenant? Got a minute?"

Anny looked up from her desk and saw Corporal Kane standing there. She glanced back at her comconsoles and decided that the report she was working on could wait for a few minutes. "Sure," she said. "What's up?"

"I had an idea and I wanted to show you something."

"What?"

"Be easier to show you, sir. It's over in the store room building behind the HQ. Better take your coat, sir; getting damn chilly outside."

Mystified, but glad for any excuse to get out of her office for a while, Anny grabbed her greatcoat and followed Kane out the back door of the building. He had been right: there was a cutting breeze slicing through the valley. Autumn was just about over and they'd had a snow flurry the other day. Winter was coming. And time was passing. 3rd Battalion had returned from their assignment with the fleet a few weeks ago. There had been celebrations and happy reunions—and one solemn memorial service. She'd been the head of Public Relations for over four months now. She could scarcely believe it.

They reached the storage building and Kane produced a key to unlock the door. Anny wasn't sure Kane was supposed to have a key, but she'd quickly come to realize that Kane was the… resourceful one in her office. He let them inside and flipped on the light and led her down a corridor to another door which he also unlocked. "I had noticed this thing a few years ago when we were doing an inventory," he said. "Not sure why they didn't throw it all out, but I had a thought that maybe we could use it now." He turned on the light in the room and stood aside so Anny could take a look. There were boxes piled to the ceiling that she recognized as containers for blank flimsies, but in the center of the room was…

"What is it?"

"It's a printer, sir. An old industrial model. I did some checking and it turns out that the 61st used to publish a regimental newspaper years ago. I was thinking that maybe we could start it back up."

"A _newspaper_, Corporal? Isn't that kind of… out of date? I mean don't most people get all their news off the 'net or the news vids?"

Kane shrugged. "For planetary news, sure, although I know there are some older townsfolk who don't use the new-fangled stuff. But I was thinking more for local news, sir. Stories about what's going on in the fort and in the town."

"Oh, I see," said Anny. "But isn't there an electronic newsletter…?"

"That's just for official announcements and stuff, sir. I was thinking this would be more human interest stories and public service articles—kind of like what your women's groups are doing, but this would be for everyone."

"They're not _my_ women's groups, Corporal," said Anny. She eyed him and smiled. "Do I have a frustrated journalist in my department?"

He smiled back. "Maybe. But I'd like to give this a try if you'd give permission, sir. I think I can get this thing running and it wouldn't really cost anything. And, well, we're running out of things to do, sir."

Anny sucked on her cheek. Kane was right; the S-9 department was running out of _official_ work to do. The women's groups were largely to thank for that. Not only were they handling a lot of the issues they had once submitted complaints about, but thanks to the networking that had developed, they now knew just how to apply pressure to get the things fixed that they couldn't fix themselves. Need a broken sink replaced? Well, Mrs. Zambino's husband works in the base plumbing shop—go talk to her! Things were getting done and the complaints landing in the S-9 office had fallen dramatically.

Of course this hadn't affected Anny's workload much since she was spending more and more time with the groups, but the three men in her office were finding themselves at loose ends. "So who would do the writing? I hope you don't expect _me_ to!"

Kane chuckled. "I figured I'd do some and maybe you could ask some of the ladies to contribute stuff. And if you did find the time to write anything, I'm sure I could find room to fit it in. It would probably only be a page or two to start."

"And how would you distribute it?"

"Well, since it would be free, we could just leave stacks of them here and there. In the mess halls here on the base. In town we could put them in stores or in the housing units."

"You seem to have it all figured out, Corporal."

"I'm trying, sir. Does that mean it's okay?"

Anny shrugged and smiled. "Why not? Good luck."

"Thanks, sir!"

And so the _Fort Vorolson Gazette_ was born. At first it was just a page or two with not much more than was to be found in the electronic newsletter. But Kane had a talent for writing and for finding good stories and before long the Gazette had quite a circulation. So much so that local businesses started wanting to place advertisements in it. Somehow Anny managed to get permission for that to happen, with the advertising fees being funneled back into the paper for supplies.

Kane quickly had a number of contributors and Anny even wrote a few articles. But her biggest contribution was when she got Ekaterin to write a piece for the paper. And it really seemed to be having an effect. There was a new solidarity in the military families and once Kane found some townspeople who were willing to contribute, the people of Malverton became teammates rather than competitors. It was actually making a difference. Anny still wanted to get back to her platoon, but she couldn't help but feel good about what she'd managed to accomplish in Public Relations.

The dark gloom of the summer was being replaced with a more hopeful winter. Jer was doing well with his platoon and even Alby was perkier. Apparently he'd managed to break the log-jam that had been holding up the simulator facility and he told them that it ought to be up and running by the spring. And they got a message from Patric Mederov that the family crisis that had pulled him away from them had been resolved and he had put in a request to be transferred to the 61st. She really hoped he could manage that. They all missed the big farm boy. She still occasionally got nasty remarks from Vorkerkas and his crowd at fencing practice and during the tryouts for an upcoming tournament she'd been forced to compete against him, but with official judges in attendance he'd behaved himself and beaten her without any shenanigans. He was still a lot better than her with the sabre, but she was catching up fast.

Overall she was feeling much better than she had in months. The only problem she hadn't been able to solve as well as she'd have liked was that of domestic violence. There were still battered women in the brigade and there didn't seem to be any easy solution.

"We've helped stop quite a few of the cases," said Sara Fetherbay one day when Anny brought up the subject. "We've gotten the women and their men into counseling and it seems to be working."

"Some, but not all. And there are probably still more cases we never hear about."

"I had a thought the other day, Lieutenant," said Fetherbay's daughter, Shelly, who often sat in on their planning meetings. "I've heard that you are really good at close combat. Maybe we could have some training classes, teach the women how to defend themselves."

A chill went through Anny. She'd had the thought herself, but after really thinking about it, she'd hoped no one else would ever bring it up. She glanced at Sara Fetherbay and the woman also seemed troubled by the suggestion. "Shelly," said Fetherbay, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"

"But why not? If the women could protect themselves then their men might not beat them up!"

"But we'd be deliberately setting husbands and wives against each other, dear. Not a good thing."

"And most of the men here are well-trained in close combat themselves, Shelly", added Anny. "The bullies might take it as a challenge rather than a deterrent. It could get out of hand. We want to stop the violence, not create more." The young woman looked disappointed, hurt even, so Anny added. "Still, it's worth taking a closer look at. Maybe something for younger, unmarried women… We'll think on it, okay?"

Shelly didn't look convinced but she didn't argue, which relieved Anny greatly. The idea of training women so they could fight off their abusers was extremely satisfying on one level, but the thought of it turning into some sort of death-match had cured Anny of the notion very quickly. And in any case, the moment that word got out of Anny training women to fight their husbands, her groups could fall apart in an eye-blink. There had to be a better answer.

They had just turned back to other matters when Anny heard the door open and the steady footfalls of Colonel Fetherbay. "Oh, Anthony is home early," said Sara. The 61st's commanding officer came to the door of the dining room where they were working and halted. The look on his face was unlike anything she'd ever seen on him. Worry mixed with… what? He stopped dead when he saw her there.

"Da, what's wrong?" asked Shelly.

"What's happened, Dear?" asked Sara, almost simultaneously.

Fetherbay looked at Anny and hesitated.

"I can leave, sir, if you'd like" she offered.

"No, no… you'd hear about it soon enough, Lieutenant."

"Hear about what, dear?" asked Sara.

Fetherbay took a deep breath and swallowed.

"The regiment is shipping out."

[Scene Break]

"As you've all heard by now, the 61st will be leaving Barrayar in less than a month," said General Vorsilva to his staff. Anny sat in the back, as always.

"Just the 61st, sir?" asked Major Danilov, the Operations Officer. "What about the rest of the brigade, sir?"

"We stay." The anger in Vorsilva's voice was plain. "All the forces for this venture are being 'hand picked', or so I'm told. Overall commander, division commander, brigade commanders, the regiments, the support troops, only the people with the _best_ connections are being considered! And I've already been told that we aren't in the running, so don't hold your breath!" Vorsilva snorted in disgust.

"But with the 61st gone and the 139th in reserve again, that… that doesn't leave much of a brigade, sir."

"Tell me about it, Geoffrey! But we might—might!—get some other regiment orphaned by this operation assigned to the brigade to replace the 61st. If not… well, if not, the brigade might be disbanded."

"Disbanded?" gasped Captain Petrov.

"Yes, disbanded! So update your resumes, gentlemen! In a few months we might all be looking for new assignments." A gloomy silence ensued that eventually Vorsilva broke. "But in the meantime we still have work to do. We must continue winterizing all the facilities and unfortunately, we can't count on the 61st to contribute any manpower. In fact, we'll have to winterize their barracks for them as they'll have no time. Obviously the cold-weather exercise scheduled for after Winterfair is cancelled. And in addition…"

The meeting was shorter than usual and there were very few questions. Vorsilva didn't ask for the usual department reports, so Anny said nothing. As the meeting broke up, she steeled herself to approach the general.

"Excuse me sir," she forced herself to say. "Do you have a moment?"

The same sour expression he'd had throughout the meeting was still on his face. "Only a moment. What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, sir, I request permission to rejoin my regiment, sir."

"Yes, I bet you do! Well, forget it!"

"But, sir, Public Relations is working smoothly! It's practically running on its own! It doesn't need me to…"

"Oh yes, I'm aware of what an _outstanding_ job you've been doing, Lieutenant. Clearly this is a job you were just made for. In fact, I've sent a suggestion to headquarters that you should be put in charge of a program setting up similar systems in forts all over Barrayar. Hell, you might get a captaincy out of that, Payne. Does that appeal to you?"

"I… I'd prefer to be with my regiment, sir." Anny stared at him in horror.

"Request denied. Go unpack your bags, girl. You're not going anywhere!"


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"**F**etherbay can't do anything?" asked Jer in dismay. He looked at Anny, sitting in the chair by his desk. She shook her head glumly.

"He said he tried, but Vorsilva is adamant."

"But _why_? How can he keep a proven combat officer in a staff job that anyone—well, almost anyone—can do?" The word that the regiment was going to be moving out—for possible combat duty—had spread through the base like wildfire. Jer had been excited and he'd been certain that Anny would be coming with them. But now…

Anny shrugged. "Why'd he put me in Public Relations to begin with?"

Before Jer could reply, his door banged open and Alby burst in with Sven Estaban close behind. "Have you heard?" shouted Alby breathlessly. "We're shipping out!"

"Yeah, we've heard," said Jer.

"'We'?" said Anny. "Does that mean…?"

"Sure does! No more simulator nightmare for me! I'll be on Fetherbay's staff! And have you heard? Fetherbay's being promoted to full colonel and is the official commander now!"

"What happened to Vortaglia?" asked Anny.

"They promoted him to general and he agreed to retire. Guess he didn't want to leave his beach house and go to Nova Paveo. Where the hell is that, anyway?"

"Back of Beyond, about a zillion jumps past Asland," said Estaban. "A hell of a trip."

"And Patric's coming with us!" exulted Alby. "Just got a message from him and his transfer's been approved! He should be here in a few days."

"That's great," said Jer. He glanced toward Anny and she smiled thinly.

"Say, what's the matter with you two?" asked Alby, mystified at his friends' lack of enthusiasm. "Oh cripes, don't tell me…!"

"Anny's not coming with us," said Jer quietly.

Alby swore an oath that actually made Jer blush. "I don't believe this!"

"S'true," said Anny. "I get to make sure everything's fine on the home front so our boys won't be worried while they're away." A note of bitterness crept into Anny's voice.

"There's gotta be something we can do! Anny, why don't you call Lord Vorkosigan? I bet _he_ can fix it!"

"I would think so!" said Estaban.

Anny shook her head. "I can't ask him for _another_ favor, Alby. He just fixed things up for my family!"

"Why the hell not? Isn't that what friends are for?"

"Say, speaking of friends," said Jer, "is there anything your father can do?" Alby's father had been a very influential general before he retired. He'd pulled strings for them several times in the past. But Alby's face fell and he looked embarrassed.

"I… don't know. My father's been fading fast since retirement. His mind's going. The last time I talked with him, he couldn't seem to remember where I was or what I was doing. When I mentioned Anny, he thought I was talking about Abigail. And… and, he kept calling me 'Carl'." Jer sucked in his breath. Carl was Alby's brother—and dead these twenty years. "I mean I can try—I will try—but I don't know if he can do anything now."

"If he could do anything, I'd be grateful," said Anny. "But it looks like I'll be staying."

"That is so unfair," said Estaban.

"Welcome to Barrayar," said all three of them in unison. That actually brought a smile to Anny's face.

"I'm gonna miss you guys."

[Scene Break]

"Patric!" exclaimed Alby Vorsworth. A crowd of people was emerging from the shuttle, but there was no missing the huge shape of Patric Mederov. At two-meters in height he towered over most of the others. Patric grinned broadly as he saw Alby. The two shook hands and Patric gave him a slap on the shoulder than nearly sent him sprawling.

"Ow! Pick on someone your own size!"

Patric looked around and then shrugged. "Sorry, I can't, so you'll have to do. How are you, Alby?"

"Not bad. Damn it's good to see you, big guy! Everything okay at home?"

"Good! Good! The retro-virus seems to be doing the job on my da. The doctors had never seen a mutation quite like that before and it took them forever to devise a fix. Damn good thing he was able to draw on my service health benefits, too; we never would have been able to afford it otherwise." Patric hefted his duffle bag and Alby grabbed his smaller travel bag. He'd forgotten just how much he liked his old friend.

"I assumed they scanned all the rest of your family for the same mutation?"

"Yup. We're all clean. No clue where this came from. Da may get a write-up in a medical journal. But wow, look at this place! They're really in high gear, aren't they?" The landing fields were crowded with shuttles big and small. Equipment being loaded and off-loaded, people scrambling around, it was busy indeed. Fortunately, the weather had moderated from the past few days. Huge mounds of snow had been pushed to the edges of the field after the first big storm of the season.

"Yeah, 1st and 2nd battalions are all getting the new battle armor, 3rd Battalion already has them, of course, and nearly all the other equipment is being replaced, too. When we ship out, we are all going to be incredibly bright and shiny."

"Still set for two weeks from now?"

"No, they pushed it back ten days so we can spend Winterfair at home. Nice of 'em."

"Huh. Well, good, it will give me more time to settle in." They dumped Patric's gear in the back of the utility vehicle Alby had brought. They piled into the front and moved out.

"Got your assignment yet or do you need to go to HQ?"

"Well, I ought to check in there, but my assignment came with my transfer orders: C Company, third platoon."

"Damn…" hissed Alby.

"What?"

"That was Anny's platoon."

"What? Oh shit! She still hasn't figured a way to come along?"

Alby had written to Patric telling him about the screw-up. "No. She's tried just about every official channel she can think of. And she refuses to ask Lord Vorkosigan."

"Your father couldn't help?"

Alby sighed. "I asked him, but at first he didn't even understand what I wanted and then he started trying to call people who are either retired or dead. I don't think he's gonna be able to help."

"Damn, that's scary. I hope I never get like that. Can't the doctors do anything?"

"They're looking into it. But even if they do come up with something, it won't be soon enough to help Anny." He frowned and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Alby… I know that look on your face. You aren't thinking of… _trying_ something? Are you?"

"I've looked into it," he replied, steering their vehicle around a small convoy of trucks that weren't moving. "But I can't see how I could pull it off."

"Giant pink bunnies won't work this time?" Patric was referring to a prank Alby had pulled at the Academy.

"No," he said in frustration. "Nor blue or green bunnies, either. Too damn many layers of security to start hacking through to issue fake orders. And if I got caught Anny could get caught up in the mess, too. No, my hacking skills aren't going to be of any use this time. But dammit, I'm not gonna let her be left behind!"

"Well, if Anny won't ask Lord Vorkosigan, maybe we should try."

"Yeah, maybe. We sure have to try something!"

[Scene Break]

"Hey, Lieutenant, got a minute?"

Anny saw that Corporal Kane was standing in front of her desk. She'd been drawing little doodles of suits of battle armor on a note pad… "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about the _Gazette_, sir. I was thinking that with the 61st leaving, but as far as I've heard, all the families staying behind, we really ought to think about sending a reporter along with the men."

"A reporter?"

"Sure! You know, someone to send stories back here. Let the folks know what their boys are up to and all."

"I imagine that most of the news organizations will be sending their own people along to cover this. It's big news at the moment, y'know." And indeed it was. The _Barrayaran Expeditionary Force_ was the biggest thing since Princess Kareen's birth. An unlikely alliance of many of the great powers was sending a peacekeeping force to the distant world of Nova Paveo to help quell a bloody war that had broken out there. Three other regiments, beside the 61st were being sent plus a large contingent of support units. The news organizations were very interested.

"Yeah, but they'll be focusing on the big picture. Doubt they'll give much coverage to our people. The families back here would probably appreciate hearing things of more local interest. We need someone with close ties to the regiment."

In spite of the gloom that had been wrapping her for days, Anny smiled. "Did you have someone in mind, Corporal?"

"Oh, not me, sir!" cried Kane. "Hell, I'm not even from the 61st! I used to be with the engineers until I decided that was way too much physical labor. Anyway, I'm the editor, I hafta stay here. But both Sergeant Elridge and Ed Malakov were making noises like they'd be interested."

"Really?" asked Anny in surprise. "I didn't think either of them would be…"

"Well, neither of them wanted to actually put in for it until we knew if it would even be allowed. Think you could get permission from the general, sir?"

"I… I'm not even sure he'd be the one to ask. He's not going on the expedition."

"But he's in charge of _us_. I was thinking we'd need his permission to send someone, but we might need other permissions to join the expedition, like you said. But one step at a time."

Kane seemed very earnest, but at the same time Anny suspected that he was Up To Something. Still she couldn't see any harm in it. "All right. I'll call his office and see what they say." She turned to her comconsoles and selected the code for Captain Vordranov, Vorsilva's chief of staff. After a moment the screen lit up and Vordranov scowled out at her.

"Yeah?" he said. Courtesy in the brigade staff had fallen off lately, she'd noticed.

"Captain, my corporal here has approached me with the idea of sending one of the people from my department along with the 61st as a news correspondent. They could send back stories about the troops for the families left behind. As you know, our work load here has dropped significantly recently and I could spare a man if the General agrees."

Vordranov snorted and looked skeptical, but he said: "I'll pass your request along to the General."

"Thank you, sir. Uh, considering the timeframe, a quick answer would be appreciated."

Vordranov's scowl grew deeper. "I said I'd pass it along," he growled and cut the connection.

"Okay," said Anny looking at Kane. "We'll see what happens."

"Thanks, sir!" Kane went away looking happy.

Anny sighed and went back to her doodling. Left behind. She was going to be left behind. Jer and Alby and Patric were heading off—off to a combat zone—and she was being left behind. She might not see Jer again for two years or even longer. She might never have reason to put on a suit of battle armor again… With a snort of exasperation she scribbled over her doodles, wadded up the flimsy, and hurled it into the trash. _Damn!_

She stared at her comconsole. All she had to do was type in Lord Auditor Vorkosigan's code. He could fix this. He _would_ fix this. He thought he owed her some debt, so he would do it for her. He spoke with the Emperor's Voice and even Vorsilva wouldn't dare tell him no. One little call and she'd be back with her platoon, her regiment… her man. The Vor used this sort of influence all the time, why shouldn't she? Ekaterin had said that he would move worlds for the people special to him. She didn't need a world moved—just a general. Her hand moved toward the keyboard and them she drew it back. Damn. _Enough people have moved worlds for you already, girl. This is your problem._

Of course she _had_ used influence in the past. She never would have made it into the Academy in the first place without help—a lot of help—from Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan. And she'd gotten all that help preparing for the Academy from Kou and Drou Koudelka. And she'd always suspected that there was a guardian angel or two watching over her once she finally got to the Academy. But she'd never actually asked for any special treatment. Alby had used his father's influence to pull some strings now and then to get her and him and Jer and Patric all assigned to the same duty, but that was different. She'd been proud that she'd only used influence to even things out, never to tilt them in her favor. She'd made it this far by dint of her own blood, sweat, and tears, she didn't want to change that.

But she was going to be _left behind…_

She was still sitting there, frozen, when a ping from the comconsole reminded her that she needed to get moving. She pushed herself up from her chair, put on her greatcoat and headed back to her quarters. She changed into her dress greens even though the greatcoat would cover it up again. She had to let out her sword belt two notches to fit over the bulky garment. As she did so, she realized that she'd skipped dress parade for the last three weeks…or was it four? She was getting lax.

But today's parade was different and she wanted to be there.

She went down the steps and out the door. Some low, scudding clouds were dropping a few flakes of snow as they hurried past and Anny turned up the collar of her coat to try and keep out the chill breeze. It was nearly Winterfair. The companies of the regiment—all three battalions—were heading for the parade ground and she followed along.

The band was already there, playing martial tunes, and a sizable crowd of spectators was lining the edges of the field despite the cold weather. The companies took their positions along the edge of the field and Anny walked over to her usual post with the staff. Alby was there and they nodded to each other. The battalion adjutants were placing themselves with their colors and the regimental color guard moved to its spot. Only the colonel was missing.

The colonels.

She looked over her shoulder as a large staff ground car slid to a halt. Several men jumped out and opened the rear doors. There was a bit of a delay and then one of the men leaned into the car and then slowly helped another figure emerge.

_Colonel Vortaglia._

The only pictures Anny had ever seen of the 61st's commander had been taken decades earlier so it was a small shock to see the ancient relic hobbling toward her. He was using a cane and leaning on the arm of a captain who seemed strangely familiar, although she couldn't place him. Fetherbay emerged behind Vortaglia and walked slowly, matching the pace and a step to the side.

Vortaglia passed by her a dozen paces away and she stared at his wizened, but well-tanned face. He looked even older than Alby's father, although she knew he was a few years younger. His greatcoat seemed about three sizes too large for him. The captain guided him to the proper spot and then after a moment's hesitation—seemingly to make sure the old man wouldn't topple over—he stepped away and came over to join the rest of the staff. Fetherbay glanced around to see that everything was ready and then nodded toward his adjutant and took his spot a few paces to Vortaglia's right and a step behind.

"Attention—Battalions!" shouted Captain Vorjanis and the dress parade began. It went just like every other dress parade except that when it came time for Vortaglia to run the regiment through the manual of arms there was an embarrassing delay when the un-named captain had to walk over to Vortaglia and remind him to turn on the tiny microphone clipped to his coat. The old man's voice barely carried to Anny and none of the men could hear him at all. Even with the loudspeakers working the Colonel's scratchy voice was hardly intelligible, but they made it through somehow.

As the captain returned to his spot he glanced at Anny and she suddenly realized where she'd met him before. _Captain Vortaglia!_ He had been the adjutant of the 42nd Infantry when she'd been with them for her apprentice cruise in her senior year. Was he the Colonel's son? Grandson? Nephew? His face was set like stone and he didn't look at her again.

The dress parade reached the point where it would normally finish up and the officers would come forward to meet with the colonel, but today things were different. This wasn't just dress parade, it was the Change of Command. Vortaglia was officially turning the regiment—his regiment—over to Fetherbay.

The adjutant called everyone to attention and then extracted a flimsy from his coat which he read from. It was a standard set of orders from headquarters placing Fetherbay in command of the 61st Regiment of Imperial Infantry. He finished quickly and then stepped aside, nodding to Vortaglia.

This time the old man remembered to turn on his microphone. He coughed and then said: "Well, as the saying goes: all good things come to an end." His voice was a little stronger than it had been earlier. "And one of the best things in my life has been the honor of commanding the 61st. When I was first assigned here as a wet-behind-the-ears ensign I never imagined that…" Vortaglia went on for quite a while, recounting his career and his experiences. It was all fairly coherent, although he did repeat himself a few times. But the sun was going behind the ridge and Anny was slowly freezing solid in the wind. The men in the ranks were probably getting edgy.

But then Vortaglia said: "And now the 61st is moving out to a new adventure, new worlds, new challenges. Alas, these old legs and old arms will not allow me to lead you anymore. But the regiment is more than any one man. Faces and names may change but the regiment goes on! Colonel Fetherbay is a fine officer and I know he will lead you well. So, my comrades, I bid you farewell. May Fortune bless your arms and when you meet the foe, remember: _Give Them the Cold Steel!"_

Any question Anny may have had about whether the men were still paying attention to Vortaglia's words was answered by twenty-five hundred voices roaring a shout that echoed across the parade ground.

The silence that followed lingered for several long moments. Then Captain Vorjanis called the regiment to attention and ordered the sergeant carrying the regimental colors to come forward. The man marched straight up to Colonel Vortaglia and set the butt of the staff of the colors on the ground right in front of him. The old man reached out and grasped them. The sergeant let go, stepped back and saluted and then moved aside. Vortaglia looked the colors up and down and brushed his hand against the silk and fingered some of the battle ribbons dangling from the finial.

After a few seconds, Colonel Fetherbay walked forward a dozen paces and then turned to come back to stand in front of Vortaglia. He saluted crisply and said: "Sir, per the orders, I relieve you." They stared at each for a dozen heartbeats and then Vortaglia slowly raised the colors and passed them to Fetherbay.

"Sir, I stand relieved. The regiment is yours," replied Vortaglia. He saluted and they shook hands. The only other sound was the sighing wind.

Fetherbay called the sergeant forward and gave the colors back to him and the man returned to his place in the color guard. At a signal from the adjutant, Anny and all the other commissioned and non-commissioned staff moved to take their posts behind Fetherbay, facing Vortaglia.

"Battalions!" shouted Fetherbay. "Shoulder-Arms!" Anny drew her sword and rested the blade against her right shoulder.

"Present-Arms!" The regiment saluted their former commander and held the salute for a long time. Vortaglia slowly returned it and nodded.

"Shoulder-Arms! The 61st Regiment Imperial Infantry will pass in review!"

Fetherbay moved toward the right of his regiment and the staff followed. A few other of the men rearranged themselves. The younger Vortaglia escorted the elder a hundred meters or so toward one edge of the field. When all was ready, Fetherbay commanded: "By company, right wheel into column—March!" The band started playing and all twelve companies simultaneously swung to the right and they were off.

By an ancient tradition, the regiment's sapper platoon lead the way, followed by Fetherbay and the staff, then the band, then the rest of the regiment. They marched a few hundred meters and then wheeled left, went another hundred meters or so and then wheeled left again. This brought them directly past where Colonel Vortaglia was standing.

Anny had marched in reviews once a week for four years at the Academy, but she'd never been with the regimental staff during one before. Once they had saluted Vortaglia they didn't just march on by. Instead Fetherbay led them around to the right until they were standing next to Vortaglia. Meanwhile the band was circling around to the left until it was facing them. The rest of the regiment would pass in between.

As the 1st Battalion came abreast, the band struck up the 61st's marching song and the men belted out the words.

"_The Colonel said: Give them your steel!_

_And we crushed the foes beneath our heel;_

_We'll crush our foes both near and far;_

_For the Emperor! For Barrayar!_

Anny glanced to her left and could see tears on Vortaglia's cheeks. She was blinking furiously and vainly to keep them off her own.

When the last company passed by, Fetherbay led them out and followed along with the band bringing up the rear. Two more left wheels brought them back to where they'd started from. The regiment wheeled into line, opened ranks, and presented arms again and they were done. The Colonel dismissed the regiment and the battalion commanders dismissed their battalions. The officers started to drift away as the sergeants marched the companies off to their dinners. Alby gave her a wave but Anny was staring at the two small figures on the far side of the field. The staff car coasted up and the men slowly got inside. She looked back to where the regiment was being swallowed up in the gathering dark…

… leaving Anny behind.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"**T**hank you, Lieutenant, I'll be sure to look into it. Good-bye."

Miles Vorkosigan cut the connection on his comconsoles and grinned. Alby Vorsworth had just called him in a near-panic that Anny Payne wasn't scheduled to go along with her regiment when it shipped out to Nova Paveo in a few days. His grin quickly faded. He was perfectly aware of the situation, of course. He and Gregor had pulled the strings which got the 61st Infantry included in the expedition in the first place precisely to get Anny off Barrayar for a while. He wasn't about to allow her to be left behind now!

But the _reason_ they wanted her far away wiped the last of the grin from his face completely. He picked up a report from ImpSec that was lying on his desk. It detailed the recent activities of a former inmate of a Barrayaran military prison who had been released two months before. Yosef Vorritter had been a lieutenant in the navy until he'd made the serious mistake of trying to rape Anny Payne during a training cruise in her junior year at the Academy. Alby and her other friends had intervened and Vorritter had been court-martialed, cashiered, and sent to prison. But he was free now and Miles was afraid he was out for revenge on the person who he might well think had ruined his life.

Vorritter had made some threatening statements while still in prison although nothing specific enough to keep him there. At Miles' request—insistence really—ImpSec was keeping an eye on the man since he was released. He had contacted two of his accomplices in the attempted rape—although those men had merely been kicked out of the military but not imprisoned—and done a few other things that could be labeled suspicious, but nothing that was sufficient to chuck him back into prison. It was a damn shame that he couldn't just order a fast-penta interrogation to find out just what Vorritter might be up to. Well, he could _order_ it, but fast-penta testimony on desires and intentions weren't admissible evidence in criminal cases so it wouldn't do much good. Miles had been holding off on addressing Anny's deployment situation in hopes that Vorritter might make some mistake in the meantime that was admissible, but now time was running out and he'd have to act.

So, how to get Anny back with her regiment? He could just issue an order, of course. Or he could talk to any one of a number of different admirals or generals in the military and get them to issue an order. Or he could get Gregor to issue an order. What would be best? These things needed to be handled _delicately_…

[Scene Break]

"So what did he say?" asked Patric Mederov.

Alby sighed in exasperation. "He said that he would look into it!"

"When? We've only got three days left!"

"I know, I know!" He got up and turned away from the comconsoles and paced back and forth in his small room. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"Well, we could always stuff her in a duffle bag and smuggle her aboard the transport," said Patric.

"Yeah… yeah!"

"Alby, I was joking!"

"I know, but it could still work! We just need to get her aboard the ship somehow. Once we've made the first jump, we're home free!"

"We most certainly are not! Vorsilva would find out she's gone and send a tight-beam message which would beat us to Komarr. They'd drag her off the ship and send her back by fast courier—and probably to a court marshal if this Vorsilva is as big a jerk as you tell me he is."

"Yeah, I guess so… damn! Somehow we have to get her aboard without Vorsilva knowing until it's too late to do anything…"

"Alby, that's crazy! She—and us!—could get in so much trouble!"

"Nah, once we're outside of Imperial space, no one's going to go to the trouble of shipping her back. And once we're in action, who's going to care anymore?"

"Alby, even if we could arrange all that, how would you ever get Anny to agree? She's as straight an arrow as they come! She'd never disobey orders!"

"Oh yeah? You shoulda _seen_ her disobey orders when we were on Dounby!"

"That was different! You—and a lot of our people—were in danger. She'll never abandon a comrade, but this isn't the same thing at all!"

"Maybe so, but I'm damn well not going to abandon a comrade either! Now she's in trouble and somehow we're gonna help her!"

"But how?" asked Patric. "Heck, even if we could stuff her in a duffle bag, where would we put her? When we move out we're not going straight up to the ships, they're sending everyone to Vorbarr Sultana first for that send-off parade!"

"Yeah, yeah…" Alby knew that the Duffle Bag Gambit was a non-starter, but the parade complicated things even further. "Maybe we could lock her in a suit of battle armor. They're being shipped up to the transports tomorrow."

"Alby!"

"All right! All right!"

"Say, did you hear who one of the brigade commanders for the BEF is going to be?"

"No, who?"

"Commandant Sylvanus—he's a general now—he'll be commanding one of the brigades. He always seemed to like Anny. Think maybe he could help?"

"Maybe…" Alby thought furiously. Sylvanus might be willing to help, but Vorsilva would have seniority over him… but he might know someone higher-ranking… _Damn_! This was ridiculous! He'd made up a whole list of high-ranking people who his father had served with—if he could just get his father lucid enough to make some calls! Wait a minute… The Old Vor Network ought to work for sons, not just fathers…

_Maybe I don't need the old man…_

Alby flung himself back into his chair and fired up the comconsole.

"Who are you calling?" asked Patric.

"Everyone."

[Scene Break]

Anny stared at the calendar on the wall. Three days. Three more days and the 61st would be moving out. First to Vorbarr Sultana for the send-off parade and then a couple of days later up to the transport ships that would take them to Nova Paveo.

And she'd still be here… left behind.

Of course she might not actually be here—at Fort Vorolson—for much longer. Apparently Vorsilva's threat to have her sent to other bases to set up more women's groups had not been an idle one. She had started getting messages from the S-9 officer at the Imperial Service Headquarters—a general no less—asking about the program she had set up. If they wanted her transferred, she had no doubt Vorsilva would sign the order in a heartbeat. If that happened, she might never see the 61st again. Might never command troops again…

"Lieutenant?" She twitched, dropping her stylus on the floor. Corporal Kane had snuck up on her again. How did anyone so tall manage to move so silently?

"Yes?"

"Got a minute?"

"Sure." _I've got lots of minutes. Bushels of 'em. How many do you want?_

"Good. I've run into a sort of problem with the idea of sending a reporter along with the BEF."

"Why? The General approved it and so did the BEF chief of staff. I told you that the other day."

"Yeah, but now I've got no one to send. Elridge and Malakov have both backed out on me. I suppose I could try and find someone in the 61st who's going, but I don't know anyone who I could trust to do the job."

Anny shrugged, unable to generate much sympathy for Kane's dilemma. "Well, it was a good idea, Corporal, but sometimes these things just don't work out. Of the folks I know in the 61st, none of them really seem the reporter type. I wish I could help but…"

"But you _can_ help, sir." Kane was smiling.

"How?"

"_You_ could be our reporter."

Anny snorted. "Are you crazy? _I'm_ not going along!"

"But you could! As our reporter!"

"Corporal…"

"Look at the order, sir!" He held out a flimsy; it was a copy of Vorsilva's approval to send a reporter. "It says right here: _The S-9 office is authorized to send a representative with the Barrayaran Expeditionary Force to report back newsworthy items._ A 'representative', sir! It doesn't say who! All the rest of this stuff on the page is just sayin' we have to get permission from the Force commander and such—which you already did. We can send anyone we like! Why not you?"

"Corporal, I really don't think that's what General Vorsilva intended when he wrote this."

"What difference does that make, sir?" Kane's grin was even wider. "It's an order. And an order's an order, I always say."

"I have my duties here…"

"Which the three of us can do just fine, sir! You've got things running so smoothly there's no reason you couldn't take a few months off on detached assignment. And that's what it would be! Not like you're abandoning your post or anything, sir! I looked it all up."

Anny stared at the man in astonishment. This was ridiculous. Insane. Completely against regulations. Wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_ "But… but…"

"Why not, sir? I know you want to go along—can't say I understand _why_, but that's none of my business. And here's your chance. What d'you say, sir?"

"It… it would never work. Vorsilva would cancel the order… make me come back…" she was mumbling, in a daze.

"You'll be long gone before he finds out," said Kane. "Right after the 61st ships out the General is taking a two-week leave with his wife. He's even cancelled the weekly staff meetings while he's gone. By the time he realizes, you'll be a dozen jumps away!"

"How… how do you know that? Have you been talking to Alby Vorsworth or something?"

"What? No, sir. But I've got my sources," smirked Kane. "I'm a newshound, y'know!"

"This is… crazy…"

"Maybe so, sir, but if you want to go, I'm thinking this is your best shot."

Anny continued to stare at the man. She _did_ want to go. More than anything. And if she could figure a way to go, Fetherbay would put her to work, she had no doubt of that. With the regiment, maybe back with her company, her platoon… her man. _Fortune favors the bold…_

"I… I need to think about this…"

"Sure!" said Kane. "But let me know what you decide, okay, sir? Only three days left, y'know." The man picked up her stylus off the floor, set it on her desk and then left her office, still grinning.

Anny stared after him for a while but eventually her gaze drifted back to the blank comconsole screen. _This is crazy! _That thought filled her mind for a long time, but slowly another thought began to intrude: _I want to go!_ For a while the two thoughts warred inside her head. _Crazy! Go! Crazy! Go! Crazy! Going… crazy…!_

Almost without volition her hand typed in a code on her comconsole. After a few moments, a harried-looking man appeared on the screen. "First Battalion ordnance, Sergeant Gadd, what do you…? Oh, Lieutenant Payne. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Sarge," she heard herself say. "All those new suits of Mark XIs that you're shipping up to the fleet, you've got some spares, right? Replacements for damaged or destroyed ones?"

"Sure, about fifty of them, plus a shitload of spare parts. Trying to get those all organized right now." The man's eyes narrowed. "Why? You gonna need one?"

"Maybe. Thanks, Sarge. Talk to you later." She cut the connection.

_I must be out of my mind…_

But despite a voice in the back of her head howling doom and disaster, she found herself typing out an order to herself to report to the regimental headquarters of the 61st Regiment Imperial Infantry as a news correspondent. She tagged a copy to brigade and regimental HQs, but she didn't send it. It was all set up and saved, though. Just the touch of a key would send it on its way.

Then she started typing out detailed instructions on how to run the S-9 office 'in the event the officer in command is absent'. She worked right through lunch. Then more suggestions to Sara Fetherbay on running the women's groups. Then a letter to Lady Vorkosigan explaining what was happening and asking her to keep an eye on things. Everything went into a file ready…for what?

Her heart was pounding and her hands shaking as she pushed herself away from her desk. She took her greatcoat off the hook and walked into the outer office. "Leaving early sir?' asked Sergeant Elridge.

"Yeah, close up when you go, okay?"

"Yes sir."

She went out the back door, sealing up the coat against a frigid wind. Winterfair had come and gone and they were into the dead of winter now. It was damn cold. What sort of climate did Nova Paveo have? _Stop thinking about that! You are not going!_ Oh really? What had she just spent the afternoon doing? There was a dagger of fear in her gut colder than the wind.

It was not the fear of getting caught. Well, not _just_ the fear of getting caught. If all that Corporal Kane had said was true, she might very well be able to get away with this. Vorsilva might raise a stink when he found out, but it seemed unlikely that he'd have the pull to actually get her shipped back or face charges. No, she wasn't afraid of the consequences—she was afraid of her own motivations. If she did this, it wouldn't be for the good of the regiment or the good of the Imperium, it would be for _her_ good. Just because she wanted to. She could make up all the justifications and good reasons in the world, but they would all be lies. She'd be doing it for her own selfish desires. Oh, it probably wouldn't do any harm and it might even do some actual good, but that would just be a by-product. She had the power to do this, but did she have the right?

She wandered through the base, struggling with her own thoughts. Throughout her years at the Academy, her duty had usually been clear. But now… now…

Her feet brought her back to the BOQ just as it was getting completely dark. Most everyone else would be off getting dinner, but Anny wasn't the least bit hungry. She stamped some clinging snow off her boots and then trudged up the steps to the second floor. She hesitated when she saw that her door was open. What was Jac doing here at this hour? She stuck her head in the door and was startled to see that her dog-robber had all her clothing and gear laid out on the bed and the chairs and the desk and he appeared to be puzzling over something.

"Jac…?"

"Oh, hello, Lieutenant," said the lance corporal. "How are you today?"

"What are you doing?"

"Oh!" For an instant Anny thought the man was going to say _nothing_ despite all the evidence to the contrary, but then he said: "The thought struck me the other day that I'd never actually tried packing up all your kit. You know, in case you had to move out. Not that you're moving out, of course, but just in case, you understand."

"Jac…"

"And I must say that it's going very smoothly, sir. You wouldn't believe the amount of junk some of the young gentlemen accumulate if they've been in one spot for a while."

"Jac…"

"I was glad to see that you haven't given into that temptation, Lieutenant. All your kit ought to fit into…"

"Jac!"

"Sir?"

"Why are you doing this now?"

"No time like the present, sir. A gram of prevention is worth a kilo of…"

"And a rolling stone gathers no damnweed. I am _not_ going anywhere, Lance Corporal!"

"Course not! Course not! Never said you were, sir!" said Jac, nodding his head. "But it's good to know you could pack up and move in a hurry if you ever had to, isn't it, sir?"

Anny scowled at him.

"But I am sorry to leave your quarters in such a mess. Wasn't expecting you back this early, sir. Haven't you eaten yet? Why don't you nip over to the Mess for a bite and I'll have this all tidied up by the time you get back."

Since there wasn't even any place to sit down, she let herself be ushered out of her own room and back outside into the cold. She had no desire to go to the Officers Mess; everyone was so excited and jolly over the deployment she couldn't bear it. So she went to the normal mess hall and got a tray of food and sat down in the nearly deserted officers' section. _What the hell was Jac up to?_ She asked herself the question again and again. She didn't think for one minute it had been a coincidence. But if it wasn't…_God! Has Corporal Kane been blabbing his idea of sending me off as a reporter all over camp?_ What a mess that could cause!

She dithered and pushed her food around on her plate with her fork and then eventually headed back to her quarters. Jac was gone and everything was back in order. Jer was especially attentive that night but he didn't say a word about Anny coming along. Maybe Kane's blabbing only extended to the enlisted ranks. Or maybe it _had_ been a coincidence. She was so distracted that she scarcely paid attention to Jer until she suddenly realized he wasn't just trying to console her. He was in distress, himself, about their impending separation. Silently chastising herself she focused her attention on the man she loved and the evening went much better after that.

The next day her tension was even worse. What the hell was she going to do? If she was going to give in and try Kane's crazy scheme she'd have to decide today. _Today. _There was no time left. She called up the file she'd created 'authorizing' her assignment to the Regiment as a reporter and re-read it about six times; making tiny and meaningless revisions to the wording each time. All she had to do was hit the 'send' key, say goodbye to her subordinates, start packing—and don't look back. Would it be wrong? She started once again down the long list of pros and cons that had been swirling through her brain since Kane had suggested this insanity. Half the morning slipped by while she tortured herself.

_Fortune favors the bold._

That phrase kept coming back to her again and again. She'd proven she could be bold when necessary. In the midst of a forest fire, in the heat of combat, even during a training exercise. But coldly calculating and self-serving boldness, could she do that? Somehow it seemed a lot tougher than facing enemy fire.

It was almost lunch time. She had to decide. Now. Her hand reached toward the keyboard…

The ping from her comconsole signaling an incoming priority message was so unexpected she snatched her hand back and actually squeaked in alarm. Gasping, she hit the accept key and found herself facing Captain Vordranov, General Vorsilva's chief of staff. "Yes sir?" she said, breathlessly.

"Payne! Get your ass up here! The General wants to see you—right now!"

"Y-yes, sir! On my way!" She was out of her chair and out of the office in an instant.

_Oh God, what's this? Has he found out what I was planning? If Jac knew, others could, too. If he heard rumors, he could have checked my comconsole and found that order! Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!_

She fairly ran up the stairs to the second floor where Vorsilva had his office. The secretary waved her through to Vordranov who simply scowled at her and pointed at the door to the General's office. Anny went through and came to attention in front of Vorsilva's large desk. "Lieutenant Payne, reporting as ordered, sir," she said, saluting.

Vorsilva did not return the salute. He just glared at her, tapping a finger on a small pile of flimsies. Anny, wearing thermal underwear because of the frigid temperatures outdoors, found herself sweating.

After nearly a minute, Vorsilva finally broke his silence. "Thirty years. I've been in the Imperial Service for thirty years, Payne, and I have never—never!—seen something like this!" Anny's mouth fell open but she snapped it shut before anything stupid could fall out. _Shut up! Don't say anything unless he asks a question!_ "I suppose that with time, we become used to people using their influence to manipulate the system. It becomes normal for people to do that to get what they want. But I have never seen anything so… so _blatant_ as this!" He slapped his hand down on the flimsies. What were they? Copies of the orders she'd written? He reached out and picked one up.

"From General Timmon Vorzanov: 'General Vorsilva, I realize the needs of your command come first, but if you could see fit to release Lieutenant Payne back to her regiment, I'd consider it a personal favor.'"

_What? Who…? _Anny had never heard of the man.

Vorsilva dropped the first flimsy and picked up another. "From Admiral Wainwright: 'I was wondering if you'd consider sending Payne back to her regiment?' And this is from General Vorlanton: 'It seems to me that a rising young officer would better serve the Imperium in a combat unit…' " Vorsilva snatched up the entire stack and waved them at her. "Twelve! Twelve of them! Six generals, five admirals and one commodore! All _suggesting_ I send you back to your regiment! All of them arrived this morning! How in God's name did you ever find time to even _meet_ all these people?"

"I… I…" Anny gibbered, but Vorsilva was still going on.

"But the topper, your crowning moment of improper meddling came just a few minutes ago!" He picked up yet another flimsy. "'Lieutenant Andreanne Payne is to be returned to duty with the 61st Regiment Imperial Infantry immediately.' Not a request! An order! From General Vordalla, the head of the Imperial Chiefs of Staff! Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Payne?"

But Anny was hardly listening anymore. _Returned? Back to the 61__st__? I'm not being left behind?_ A silly grin was starting to grow on her face.

"_Well?"_ roared Vorsilva. Anny flinched.

"I… I… I have nothing to say, sir," she stammered out. She ruthlessly told her facial muscles to ditch the grin, but they ignored her.

"I'll bet you don't!" snarled Vorsilva. "In my day this sort of gross favoritism would never have been tolerated! What's this empire coming to? Proven officers are left rotting on the shelf while every damn… _toady_ who has a friend in high places gets the plum assignments!" The man's face was turning red, but he finally cut off his rant. He stared at her so venomously that her grin finally went into hiding.

"Well!" he snapped. "There are still a few of us left who know how to follow an order and I've been given one!" He held up the flimsy again. "Go on! Get out! Go back to your damn regiment!"

"Thank you, s…"

"Go!"

"Yes, sir!" Anny didn't wait a moment longer. She saluted, spun on her heel and marched away. Once out of the office she sprinted back to her own desk and erased all trace of her self-generated correspondent order. By then her _real_ order for returning to the 61st had arrived. She read it four times in growing elation.

"Good news, sir?" Corporal Kane was leaning in her door.

"Yes," she said. Very good."

[Scene Break]

Alby denied everything, of course.

And his denial of contacting General Vordalla was so convincing that Anny felt sure he was telling the truth. So there was at least one other player in this bizarre game that had landed her exactly where she wanted to be. Lord Vorkosigan?

"Does it really matter?" asked Jer when she voiced her curiosity. "The important thing is you're coming along!"

She couldn't argue with that.

The mad scramble to wrap up her affairs at Fort Vorolson and get ready to ship out had left her breathless. She was sad to leave the women's groups behind but Sara Fetherbay said she would keep them running. They would be more important than ever with all the families remaining at the fort while the men were away. And with the regiment possibly heading into combat, it wouldn't be like a normal deployment with the fleet. Anny promised Corporal Kane that she would send back stories as often as she could. Jac promised he'd get all her gear sent up to the transport ship she'd be on.

And so, two days later, she and Jer and Alby and Patric and a whole lot of other people were marching down the main streets of Vorbarr Sultana in their red-and-blue parade uniforms, being cheered by thousands and thousands of onlookers. It wasn't quite as big or quite as jubilant as the parade for Princess Kareen had been. For one thing it was still winter and the weather kept a lot of people away. For another, they weren't celebrating a royal birth, they were sending their troops away, to some unimaginably distant place where battle might await. The Emperor was on a reviewing stand and Anny thought his face looked very somber; nothing at all like he looked that day celebrating his daughter's birth.

But the bands played gallant tunes and somehow they'd found flower petals to strew in the streets and a watery winter sun bathed the whole thing in a gentle glow. Anny marched at the front of her platoon—it was hers again! Patric had been given another assignment!—and the column wound its way through the streets and life was very good.

The parade ended at Vorbarr Sultana's main monorail station where the troops would board a series of special trains which would take them to a large military shuttleport outside the city. The troops were allowed to break ranks and say their goodbyes to the families which had followed them here. With the whole BEF there, it was a mob scene and it took several hours for everyone to board the trains. Anny found Jer and just mingled until it was their turn.

The excitement and pride of the parade was giving way to the realization that these partings could last for years and they could last forever. It was a scene that had been replayed thousands of times in Barrayaran history—and human history stretching back millennia: women seeing their men off to war. Tears seemed to be on every face and Anny found herself choking up at times. There had been no time for her own family to make the trip to the city and she was just as glad they weren't here. Alby's parents had come, his father in a power chair, and it had made a deep impression on the usually cynical Alby. He had clung to his mother for a long time and didn't say much afterwards. His two brothers hadn't returned after another such goodbye.

"It's sinking in," said Jer.

"Yeah, this is for real. When we left on our training cruise it still didn't seem real. None of us were expecting what happened on Dounby. This time…"

"Sorry you're coming?" asked Jer with a grin.

"Not a bit. This is where I belong."

Finally there was an announcement in the earbugs they were all wearing: "61st Regiment! Attention! Prepare to embark! 1st Battalion, Gate 32! 2nd Battalion, Gate 36! 3rd Battalion, Gate 40! All other 61st personnel, Gate 45!"

A shudder went through Anny. The transport ships only held a battalion each. She and Jer would be on different ships for the long journey to Nova Paveo. Supposedly they would be given shore leave a few times at planets along the way, but they wouldn't be seeing much of each other on the trip and maybe not at all once they got to their destination. Suddenly, they were clinging to each other, locked in a kiss. "Take care of yourself," she whispered in his ear when they broke the kiss.

"You, too," he whispered back. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

They slowly let go of each other. More than a few people were gawking at them, but she didn't care. They pulled apart, fingers still entwined until they finally had to let go. Anny nodded to him and then headed toward where her battalion was forming. On the way, she saw Colonel Fetherbay with his wife and daughter. The girl was clinging to him and sobbing. Anny looked away.

Sergeant Kay had the platoon lined up and waiting when she got there. The rest of the battalion was nearly formed. "Everything in order, Sergeant?" she asked him.

"Yes, sir. Good to have you back, sir."

"Good to be back."

Vorstang—_Captain_ Vorstang now, there had been a wave of long-overdue promotions in the regiment—called C Company to attention. A monorail car was sliding into position opposite where they were waiting and the doors popped open.

"All aboard!" bellowed First Sergeant Nikolaidis.

The men shuffled through the doors and found seats. Except for their ceremonial rifles they carried no gear at all. Everything had –hopefully!—been sent up to their transports already. Anny unclipped her sword and put it in the overhead rack and sat down. Ensign Vorgard plopped down next to her.

"Well!" he exclaimed, looking excited. "We're on our way!"

"Yes," said Anny. "We're on our way."

End of Book One

Author's note:

Okay, we've reached the end of Book One! Unfortunately, there will be a bit of a delay before I start posting the chapters of Book Two. Why? Well, I've decided to include one of the canon characters in the adventure. And in doing so I will have to include some major spoilers for the upcoming "Captain Vorpatril's Alliance". Since I don't want to spoil things for anyone, I am going to delay posting any more until after CVA is officially released. Sorry about that! (And please, don't YOU post any spoilers in your reviews speculating on how this is all going to work!)


	14. First Interlude

Lieutenants

By Scott Washburn

Warning: Spoilers for Captain Vorpatril's Alliance

First Interlude

"**S**o,they're on their way?" asked Miles Vorkosigan.

"The fleet should be breaking orbit in just a few minutes," replied Gregor Vorbarra. He paused and ran his hands through his dark hair. There was a bit of gray showing in the temples now, Miles observed—just like on his own temples. "Why do I see myself saying a year from now: 'well, it seemed like a good idea at the time'?"

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?"

"Aren't you? By the time you include all the fleet personnel, support, diplomatic people, and various hangers-on, we're sending nearly 50,000 of our people to the back end of nowhere for purposes that look less and less clear every day. How many of them are going to be coming back in cryo-freeze—or not at all?"

"You've never really done this before, have you? Send troops into battle, I mean."

"Well, I suppose I was responsible for the men who fought at Vervain, but I wasn't really the one in command, as you'll recall." Gregor gave Miles an ironic smile.

"That was really something, wasn't it?" Miles smiled back.

"Growing nostalgic for the old days, Miles?"

"There are times when I still miss it, yes. Not so much now, but still… There's nothing quite like that adrenalin high just before going into action. Part excitement and part sheer terror." Miles paused and looked down at his boots. "It was scary being in combat, but the thing that scared me the most was knowing that if I screwed up a lot more than just me could die. My friends, my comrades… my _command_ could die. I had gotten so damn proud of the Dendarii that the thought of seeing my creation destroyed was more horrible than just about anything else. I had nightmares about it. I'd be in the tactics room, watching the shuttles going down, and I'd suddenly realize there was some terrible mistake in my plan and even though there was still time to fix it, I'd be paralyzed in my chair, unable to move or say anything, just watching the disaster unfold. Usually that's when I woke up." He looked sheepishly at Gregor. "I never mentioned any of those dreams to Simon."

"No, I suppose not," said Gregor very softly. "That's the sort of the nightmare I'm living right now. Once the fleet makes its first jump I won't know if I've made a terrible mistake until it's far, far too late to do anything about it."

"It's a powerful force, Gregor. After the rendezvous with the other contingents, it's unlikely to encounter anything it can't handle."

"True," nodded the Emperor. "Even if the Nuevo Brasilians sent their entire fleet to try to intercept us, they couldn't win."

"And they'd end up at war with nearly all the great powers. They'd never risk it."

"No, you're right. But I'm not worried about some big disaster, just a series of small, on-going disasters once they get there. Miles, I've studied the histories of other missions like this—some going back a thousand years or more—and they rarely end well."

Miles frowned and then shrugged. "Well, there isn't anything we can do now. We're committed. We'll just have to hope that the people we're sending are up to the job."

A small smile appeared on Gregor's lips. "I'm still rather amazed about one of the people we're sending. I must admit that took me by surprise. But there was no reason for me to intervene and several not to."

Miles chuckled. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about _him_ deliberately putting himself in harm's way."

"No, that's true."

"But you said you had something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes, it's something that Laisa brought to my attention. Some rather odd goings-on concerning Kibou-daini. I don't know if it's something for an auditor to get involved with _yet_, but I want your opinion."

"Okay, show me what you've got."

[Scene Break]

Deputy Counsel Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril watched the fleet moving out of orbit from the observation lounge aboard the Imperial battleship _Prince Serg_. It was an impressive sight. Damned impressive. The biggest deployment of Barrayaran troops since the ill-fated invasion of Escobar over forty years previously. There had been a few fleet operations in the last decades that had contained more warships than this, but when you added in the transports and the large number of auxiliaries it was the biggest task force in more than a generation.

And Ivan was going along. Ivan and his wife, Tej.

It still seemed slightly incredible to him. He'd spent twenty years in the Imperial Forces and never once voluntarily gotten within light years of a combat zone. He'd been in a few combat zones, of course, but never by choice. Usually it had been Miles' fault. And now, mere months after retiring from the military he found himself heading toward a war zone—as a diplomat!

He hadn't planned it. When he'd applied for a position in the Diplomatic Service he'd pulled some strings to get assigned to Lord Vorpinski's staff. Vorpinski had been a diplomat at large for many years. He travelled all over the Wormhole Nexus on Imperial business and Ivan and Tej had decided that it might be fun to travel for a few years before finally settling down somewhere and starting their family.

But the ink was barely dry on his appointment when Vorpinski was ordered to join the Barrayaran Expeditionary Force and go to Nova Paveo! Ivan could have backed out, but it would have burned up all those favors he'd called in for nothing. God only knew where he'd end up assigned instead. So, after some long talks with Tej they decided to go ahead. With any luck it wouldn't be a long assignment. With any luck there wouldn't be any combat…

"So, we're off." Ivan turned and smiled as Tej came to stand next to him and took his arm. "Our first adventure in a long time."

"The first one since we met. You really want to do this?"

"Don't start that again! We've made up our minds, remember? One last fling and then we start cranking out little Vorlings to make your mother happy."

"Hopefully to make us all happy. And Mamere's not getting any younger. Neither am I for that matter." Tej smiled and poked him but didn't answer. She was ten years younger than him and with the advantage of galactic gene screening and a uterine replicator birth, she'd probably out-live him by thirty years or more. That thought had been weighing on him more and more lately. Yes, one last fling and then children. Maybe he was finally ready for that…

"Ah, Ivan, there you are." They both turned to see Lord Vorpinski and his wife, Larissa, approaching. They were both in their sixties, but fit and energetic. "Quite a sight, eh?" Vorpinski pointed at the large viewport. "But I'm glad I'm seeing it from here! Did ten years aboard ship when I was a lad, and sometimes months would go by between chances to see outside. Glad we're not junior officers anymore, eh?"

"Yes, sir," agreed Ivan. "And I understand that Admiral Vorburke sets a very fine table, too."

"Yes! I've travelled with him a few times and he's got an excellent cook and a steward who is an absolute genius at procuring local delicacies from the worlds we stop at. There should be ample opportunities for that on this odyssey."

"Lots of formal dinners once we join up with the other contingents, I would imagine, sir. I assume they are all sending diplomatic parties as well?"

"Oh yes! Absolutely! In many ways this whole enterprise is a diplomatic one rather than military. It may have started out as a humanitarian mission, but once the great powers got involved, well, things took on a momentum of their own."

Ivan nodded. The situation in the Wormhole Nexus had a lot of similarities to the Age of Exploration and Colonization on Old Earth, centuries before space travel. A cluster of powerful worlds had grown up around a central core: Earth, Beta Colony, the Cetagandan Empire, Pol, Escobar, Barrayar and the Nuevo Brasilians, plus a dozen or so secondary powers. From there, hundreds of other colonies had spread out along the intricate chain of jump routes that was the Nexus. Some were sponsored by the governments of the Powers and far more were independent ventures. By this time no one really knew how far humanity had spread. Some estimates put the number of settled worlds in the thousands. In the early days, some of the Powers had visions of vast, galaxy-spanning empires. There had been a century or so, while Barrayar was locked in its own Time of Isolation, where there had been a mad race going on to grab the best planets and most strategic star systems and out-settle the competition.

But just as on Earth of the past, the vast distances and long travel times made it very hard for the mother worlds to hang on to their colonies for long. Time after time, worlds that had been expected to be the bases from which these new empires would grow, had decided that they wanted destinies of their own and would declare independence. The nature of the nexus made it easy for those bids for freedom. You could only get from one world to another by the wormhole jump routes that led from star to star. More often than not the route from a mother world to a colony passed through at least one star system held by some other power or by some independent world. And if that world decided that its sympathies lay with the rebels—or just wanted to screw with the mother world—well, they could make it very difficult for the 'rightful owners' to reinforce their garrisons. The centuries following the mad land-rush had seen the nascent empires shatter into hundreds of independent worlds that were just too hard to re-conquer to be worth the effort. Most of the Powers gave up on the whole idea.

Most of them.

There had still been an occasional attempt over the years for someone to build a strong base in the outer reaches from which other worlds could be seized and held. Ivan had never really grasped just what these mother worlds hoped to accomplish. Taxes? Military strength? Prestige? Only the last one made any sense. It was hard to believe that any wealth or military strength that might be returned to the home world could pay back the original investment. Still, some worlds had tried.

The latest was the attempt by the Nuevo Brasilians. The EnBees, as they were commonly referred to, had been an almost-great power for a long time. Or perhaps a wannabe great power would be a more accurate description. They had grand visions, grand schemes, and some truly grand failures. One scheme, many centuries ago, had seen them try to build a genetically engineered clone army of super-soldiers. That had failed so spectacularly that it had nearly been the end of the EnBees right there. And it had so soured nearly everyone else on the very idea of super-soldiers that there had been few attempts ever since. Which was a good thing in Ivan's opinion.

Still, every few generations, the EnBees would raise a fuss by some abortive invasion attempt or massive military build-up that would force their neighbors to take notice until they calmed down again. They had always been a loose cannon.

The latest fuss centered around the colony world of Nova Paveo. From the briefing Ivan had received, he knew that it was a hospitable world in a star system that had a good number of wormhole exits. It had been colonized about a century earlier by what appeared to be an independent group with only a few cultural ties to the EnBees. As was most often the case, the most direct route to Nova Paveo led through a large number of systems controlled by other worlds. But what was only just now coming to light was the fact that the EnBees had discovered another, far more roundabout, route to Nova Paveo that passed through uninhabited systems or systems whose inhabitants didn't care about ships passing through. And so the EnBees had secretly pumped massive resources into Nova Paveo in hopes of creating an industrialized base for further expansion.

They had attempted to neutralize the threat of rebellion by only sending colonists with the strongest loyalty to the home world: grandees from their aristocratic class and workers who had gone through the most intense training and propaganda. And a very strong force of their feared secret police.

But once again, the EnBees had screwed up.

In spite of all their precautions, all their informers and agents and soldiers, there had still been a revolt. Information from ImpSec indicated that it had started out as a top-down coup rather than a popular revolution. The grandee sent as governor had decided that he was going to set up an empire of his own rather than work for the bosses back home. But the rebellion was only partially successful. There had been enough loyalists willing to fight that the governor had failed to seize the whole planet. The EnBees had brought in reinforcements to secure their remaining foothold. From there things had just gotten worse. The word was that the original leader had been killed, but before he went he'd managed—probably unintentionally—to turn the rebellion into an actual popular uprising. With rebels against loyalists it had turned into a bloody civil war.

This probably wouldn't have concerned the rest of the galaxy all that much—such things happened often enough, after all—except that the new rebel leaders had a knack for public relations and diplomacy. Realizing they would need outside help if they were to survive, they had gone right to the top. They hadn't bothered asking their weak neighbors for help; they'd gone to the Great Powers, distant though they might be. The fact that the EnBees had struck at the rebels with all their legendary brutality had given the rebel emissaries plenty of ammunition for their case. The Betans, always interested in maintaining the status quo, and the Polians, who had a deliberately cultivated reputation as peacemakers, had been quite receptive to the plea for help. In a rather remarkable bit of diplomatic maneuvering the rebels had managed to sell the idea of a multi-national peacekeeping force going to Nova Paveo. Clearly they were hoping that an enforced cease-fire would eventually become a de facto state of independence.

At face value it was a humanitarian mission, but behind the scenes there was a lot more going on. None of the Great Powers really trusted each other. The Great Game for dominance might have entered a long quiet period, but it never really ended. Each power was always on the lookout for something that might give it an edge over the others. Nova Paveo was not all that valuable a prize, but if the EnBees wanted it then maybe the Cetagandans would want it, too. Or Pol, or some coalition of Earth nations. Or Barrayar. No one was willing to let any one of the others have a free hand out there. So they were all coming along. And they would all be scheming and plotting and backstabbing the whole time.

And so, here was Ivan. _What a mess. Well, at least the food will be good._

"Dear," said Larissa Vorpinski to her husband, jogging Ivan out of his musings. "Did you know that Tej, here, is an absolute wiz at languages? She speaks about a dozen of them and is studying more. She'll be a real asset to you, I think."

"Really?" said Vorpinski looking interested. "Those earbug translators do the job, but are no substitute for actually speaking the language. You have a natural talent for them, Tej?"

"Yes sir," said Tej, shrugging. "They're fun. I hear a new language for a while and I seem to pick it right up. When I heard we'd be coming out here I started studying some of the more prominent languages used by the coalition and the Paveans. They have the most unusual variation on Portuguese, you know."

"No, I didn't know. Interesting. How about Cetagandan? I've tried for years to get a grasp on their language, but with no success."

"It _is_ very tricky, sir," said Tej, nodding. "The actual vocabulary is straightforward enough, but they have all these complicated grammatical forms depending on who is speaking to whom. Haut to haut, ghem to ghem, haut to ghem, ghem to haut, and a whole set of variations depending on the specific ranks of the people speaking. And that's just for them talking to each other. When talking to foreigners there is another whole set of rules. I'm slowly getting the hang of them."

"That's wonderful. I may find some work for you, Tej!" Vorpinski grinned at her.

"I was hoping to do more than just be a tourist, sir." Tej smiled back at him.

"Well, I've never been one to let willing hands go idle!" Vorpinski glanced meaningfully at Ivan. "We're creating a nest for a whole batch of vipers here, and once they all arrive I can guarantee you that we'll all have our hands full!"

[Scene Break]

The young man stood in the driving sleet and shivered. The streets of Vorbarr Sultana were nearly deserted due to the weather, but the solemn funeral procession made its way down the boulevard as if there were thousands watching. Just a few days before, there _had_ been thousands lining these streets, watching the departure of the Barrayaran Expeditionary Force. There were a still a few shriveled flower petals floating in the gutter.

The young man shook his head sadly. The old man who lay in the casket atop the horse-drawn carriage would have loved that parade, but he was already in the final stage of his death coma and had known nothing of it. The notion that Barrayar was once again flexing its muscles and sending its youth to the stars would have delighted the old man.

The only connection between the young man and the old was their mutual passion for politics and many common beliefs concerning those politics. When they had first met, the younger had clearly been the junior, a protégé, perhaps, but as the years passed and the youth matured and the elder had faded, they had been more like equals. The young man felt a strange empty feeling, like standing next to some enormous hole that had once been level ground.

_I'm going to miss you, Old Man._

It was a strange thought. Neither one had ever shown even the slightest trace of affection for the other, fearing, perhaps, that it would be misinterpreted. But now that it was too late to matter, he had to admit that he'd liked the old codger.

The procession was led by a single drummer whose instrument was draped in black crepe and muffled so that the steady, slow beat seemed from far off. Due to the old man's distinguished military career in years long past, he was entitled to an escort of soldiers and the Academy's corps of cadets had supplied a company. The young man snorted silently when he saw that several of the cadets, marching at the half-step, black arm bands on their dress uniforms, rifles reversed, were girls.

That was a bit of irony: the old man had _hated_ the notion of letting women into the military. He'd even taken some steps to sabotage the attempt of the very first woman trying to enter the military. Unsuccessfully as it turned out. The young man had felt it a waste of effort, but had never said so.

"It's a disgrace," said a voice at his elbow.

The young man jumped slightly. A stranger had come up next to him unseen. A man perhaps a few years older than him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Allowing those damn sluts to march in his escort!" snapped the man, pointing to the cadets. "Everyone knows he opposed letting them in. This is a deliberate slap in the face!"

The young man considered it for a moment but rather doubted that any such thing had been intended. But why was this fellow here and talking to him like this? "Excuse me, do I know you, sir?"

"We've never met, but I know your reputation," said the stranger. "My name is Vorritter."


	15. Chapter 13

Lieutenants

By Scott Washburn

Book Two

Chapter 13

"**A**ll hands stand by for acceleration! Repeat: All hands stand by for acceleration!" The speaker mounted in the ceiling blasted out the announcement so loudly Anny flinched.

"Man, they aren't wasting any time!" exclaimed Private Kerbeck. "We just got aboard this tub!" The other members of Anny's platoon were shuffling through the airlock leading from the hanger bay.

"Don't call it a tub if there are any crewmen around," warned Anny. "They tend to get upset about things like that."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant," smirked Kerbeck.

"Should we hold on to something, sir?" asked a young private named Urbaniak. He was looking around for a handhold, she guessed.

"No, that was for the crew, not us. If the compensator is working properly we won't feel a thing."

"And if it's not working?"

"We still won't feel a thing."

"Yeah, 'cause we'll all be squashed to strawberry jam before we'll even notice, right, Lieutenant?" said Kerbeck looking at Urbaniak, who had gone pale.

"That's right," sighed Anny. "But don't worry, the crewmen take very good care of the compensators. First time off planet, private?"

"Y-yessir. Well, except for a few hops in shuttles during training."

"You'll be fine." Anny turned as Sergeant Kay made his way up to her through the tightly packed troopers. "All present, Platoon Sergeant?"

"Yes sir."

"All right, stick together and let's see if we can find our berths. They're all on this deck, so they shouldn't be too far." She automatically reached for her computer pad, but it wasn't on her belt the way it would normally be. _Parade red-and-blues, what a pain!_ Generally Anny liked fancy uniforms quite a lot, but the traditional Barrayaran parade uniforms were patterned after a type worn by the Vorbarra clan infantry several centuries earlier. The only pockets were in the long tails in back that hung down to the knees. Anny fumbled around until she managed to pull the 'pad out and turn it on.

"Okay," she said, consulting their orders and an attached deck plan of the ship, "we should be down this way, compartment E-19." She was about to say 'grab your gear', but they didn't have any gear. They'd been shipped directly up from Vorbarr Sultana after the big send-off parade with nothing but their uniforms and ceremonial weapons. Supposedly all their other gear had already been sent up and ought to be waiting for them. She hoped it was. "Follow me."

She led her platoon past the other groups of milling troopers. The way seemed familiar to her and it was. They were aboard the Imperial attack transport _Stalwart_. Anny had spent a few days aboard the ship during an exercise in her third year at the Academy. What was the name of that ensign who had piloted their shuttle? Kershaw, that was it. She wondered if he was still aboard.

E-Deck on _Stalwart_ was where all the important stuff was located—at least if you were an assault trooper. Arrayed along both sides were the bays where the assault shuttles were kept. Just inboard of those were where the troopers' suits of battle armor were stored. And then along the center of the deck were the berthing quarters for the men.

"Birthing quarters?" snorted Private Kerbeck when someone used the term. "Ya mean like a maternity ward or something? Ain't nobody here gonna be giving birth … er…." his laughter faltered when he saw Anny staring at him.

"Kerbeck, how the hell do you manage to walk with one foot in your mouth all the time?" asked Corporal Whelan.

"Mmmph… practice… Mmmph!" choked Kerbeck, hopping on one foot. The men laughed and Anny grinned. They were all in good spirits. Off on a big adventure. She was so glad to be back with them!

"Here we are, E-19," said Anny. The compartment was filled with bunks stacked four high. Each bunk had several large duffle bags sitting on it, the men's gear, presumably. The two walls flanking the door were rows of lockers. The far wall had three doors in it. One led to the showers and toilets which also connected to three other berthing compartments. If everything had been organized properly they would be occupied by the other three platoons of C Company. A second door led to what Anny assumed was the officers' quarters. But when she looked inside the bunks were filled with the gear of the platoon's sergeants and corporals. On her training cruise they had put the cadet-officers in there… where…?

The third door solved the mystery. It had been sealed on her training cruise, but now it was open and she saw that it led to a steep set of steps that went up to D Deck. Rechecking her orders, she saw that, indeed, she was listed as being on D Deck. _Of course. Heaven forbid that officers would bunk near their men! _Actually, it was a bit of a relief. She hadn't been sure how she would work out the bathroom arrangements.

Assured that her men were getting settled in, Anny trotted up the steps and into a long corridor with lots of doors. There were a batch of officers wandering up and down looking at the numbers on the doors. She smiled when she saw Patric Mederov. He had been briefly given command of her platoon, but had graciously agreed to shift to A Company when she returned. "Hey, Anny", he said when he saw her.

"Hi Patric! Found your bunk yet?"

"No, but it must be up this way, I think."

"There seems to be stairs leading down to each company. You'd think they'd put us right next to the stairs to our men." She looked at the numbers on the doors close by and that clearly wasn't the case.

"Naw, that would make too much sense. I'm in D-44, that must be back this way," he said, pointing toward the stern.

"Looks like I'm in the other direction. Well, see you later." Her orders said she was in D-09, which ought to be right about… there. She hesitated before hitting the entry button. Was this a standard two-person compartment? Would she be expected to share it with another officer or would they put her in here alone? On her apprentice cruise they'd given her the quarters intended for a company commander. In the last minute rush to get her back with the regiment had anyone even thought about her situation? What if in some bizarre cosmic practical joke she was paired with one of Adrien Vorkerkas' buddies? At least it couldn't be him since he was on the 2nd battalion transport. She took a breath and pushed the entry button. The door slid open and she saw that the room was not unoccupied, but…

"Jac!"

"Ah, there you are, sir," said her dog-robber, looking up from a pile of her things on the bunk. "Welcome aboard."

"What… what are you doing here?" she gasped. "The ship is breaking orbit! You won't be able to get back down!"

"Not going back down, sir," said the elderly soldier with a grin. "Coming along with you."

"But… but… your wife! And you'll be retiring soon!" Anny was flabbergasted.

"Not retiring for almost two years, sir. And Polly said that she was letting me off the leash for one last time. After I get back I'm hers for good. D'you want your tunics hanging up or folded?"

"Uh, hanging if there's a spot. But Jac, we're heading into a combat zone!"

"Wouldn't be the first time for me, sir."

"Really?" Anny had had many a conversation with Jac, but he'd never said anything about being in combat!

"My first time was during Vordarian's War. I was a raw recruit, of course, hell, they pulled my whole training battalion out of camp, gave us rifles, and sent us to one of the trouble spots. Not a lot of fighting, of course—hell, we didn't even know which side we were on until it was all over—but a few of my buddies got nicked. After that, well, I was a lot of places where a person could get shot at. Komarr, during the uprising… fought pirates once or thrice… oh, other times, here and there. This shouldn't be much different, I'm thinking. Besides, someone needs to look out for you, sir."

"Where… where are you bunking?" The compartment did have two beds…

"Oh, with the other non-commissioned staff, Lieutenant. One deck down. Don't worry, I'm all settled in. Came up here with all the other gear yesterday. And some damn good chow on this here ship, sir."

"Yes, one good thing about the navy."

"But here I am yacking away and you wanting to be out of those red-and-blues, I'm certain! Always hated those things. I'll wait out in the passageway while you change, sir, then I can get the rest of your kit unpacked." He went through the door and shut it behind him.

Anny stared after him for half a minute, a warm glow inside her. Having Jac along made things just feel… right, somehow. She had become quite fond of her old dog-robber over the months he'd been working for her and she'd been upset that during the mad rush to get herself re-integrated with the company that she hadn't been able to find him to say good-bye—now she knew why!

She shook herself and peeled off her parade uniform and hung it up, thinking how ridiculous it was to haul it halfway across the Nexus and back again when she wouldn't need it for anything. She wasn't sure if undress greens or black fatigues would be more appropriate for shipboard, but she decided on the side of caution and went with the greens. Normally, the uniform for the day was announced beforehand, but no one seemed to have thought of it today. Just as she was finishing up, the door buzzer went off and a moment later the door slid open. Jac was standing there with a strange expression on his face.

"Uh, sir, your… uh… your roommate is here."

"My what…?" _Roommate? Who…?_

Jac stood aside and a person stepped up to the door.

A woman.

"Lieutenant Payne?" she said. "I'm Chief Medical Technician Tropio, 389th Field Hospital Company. My orders say I'm supposed to stay here."

[Scene Break]

"It just never occurred to me that there would be other women with the expedition," said Anny. "I mean I know that's stupid; I know that there have been women in the medical services for a long time, but I've just… just…"

"Gotten used to being the only woman around?" finished Christine Tropio, with a grin. The two women were sitting on their bunks, facing each other. Tropio looked to be about ten years older than Anny, half a head shorter, and her pale blonde hair was cut nearly as short as Anny's dark brown locks.

"Yes," said Anny with a snort. "There were times at the Academy when I'd sort of forget that women even existed until I'd see myself in the mirror."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Dealing with nothing but men day after day it gets to feel like the whole world is male."

"But you say there are eight other women in your company? Where are they staying?"

"They curtained off a section for them in the NCO quarters in one of the normal company berths. My company is quartered just aft of your troopers. But apparently, as the senior tech, they are now considering me as a sort of officer, so they sent me up here. I hope you don't mind—not that it would make any difference if you did."

"No! Not at all! I think it will be… really good having you here. But are you in command of your company, Chris?"

Tropio snorted. "Not likely! Haven't you heard? Women aren't fit to command men." She stared at Anny and grinned. "But no, I guess _you_ haven't heard that, have you?"

"I've caught a few rumors to that effect," said Anny, grinning in turn. "But maybe some changes are coming."

"Maybe. Actually, my CO, Lieutenant Krelnikov, isn't a bad sort. He's willing to give us girls a chance and, in fact, I do end up commanding a lot of men. Not that they'd admit it, of course, since I'm not technically a soldier." A note of bitterness seeped into Tropio's voice and Anny nodded sympathetically. The medtech was wearing a uniform, but it was distinctly different from any worn by the regular military. It was a pale green—almost the same shade as surgical scrubs—and lacking most of the military style and decorations that made Barrayaran uniforms so snazzy. And while Tropio wore a name badge that said she was a senior medical technician, there was no rank insignia of any sort. At least the women were permitted to wear trousers—although Anny had noticed when Tropio was unpacking that her 'dress' uniform included a knee-length skirt that was worn _over_ her trousers.

"Well, I'm certainly glad to have you along, in any case," said Anny. "They're attaching one hospital company with each battalion?"

"That's what we've been told. I know you assault troopers don't have much in the way of organic medical support."

"No, that's true. We're supposed to be as self-contained as possible to stay mobile. Our armor can supply quite a bit of first aid and there are two men in each platoon with extra training, but for serious injuries we need outside help." Anny hesitated. "If any of the men give you or your girls any trouble let me know."

Tropio smiled. "We're pretty good at taking care of ourselves, Anny. But if we run into anything we can't handle, I'll be sure to tell you." Now Tropio hesitated. "Sometimes there's trouble when we're first attached to a unit. The men don't know what to think of us and, well, some of them think the wrong thing. But usually, once we've worked with them for a while, the men are glad to have the Vivs around."

"Vivs?"

"Oh, that's what we call ourselves. It's short for _vivandiere_. It's French. Means 'givers of life' or some such thing. Goes way, way back in history, Old Earth. Women who followed the men into battle and carried water and dressed wounds and such. I guess some people would call them camp-followers, but they wore uniforms and were on the unit rosters and got issued rations even if they weren't paid. Not sure how we picked up the term, but it's all through the medical service."

"Interesting. So how did you decide to become a Viv, Chris?"

Tropio shrugged. "I wanted to be a doctor. But I had no money for school and I didn't rate a scholarship. So I figured Imperial service might be a way around. Put in my twenty years and then use my benefits to go back to school. I'm a little over halfway there. Picking up a lot of good experience, too."

"But surely you haven't had to treat many wounded men. I mean there's no war—or wasn't until now."

"There are always training accidents. And a few years ago we were in that big fire in Vorkosigan District and…"

"You were there? So was I!" exclaimed Anny.

"With all the cadets, sure. We heard about that, although my unit was way down at the other end of the line. Plenty of injuries to treat there. Almost like a combat zone, I guess."

"Well, hopefully you won't be kept too busy on this deployment. Nobody seems to know just how much fighting we'll run into. There might not be any at all."

"You sound disappointed at the possibility. I've heard you've already seen combat yourself, Anny. You eager for more?"

"I'm a soldier; it's what I do," she answered. Then her thoughts went back to those hours on Dounby. "I don't know. It was scary and we lost a lot of men, but still… it was… I wouldn't have wanted to miss it."

"Not eager for combat, but eager to be allowed to do the job you've trained for. Yeah, I guess I can understand that. I hate seeing men all torn up and in pain, but if they didn't go out and get themselves all torn up I'd have no reason for being here, either. It's a strange thing, isn't it? Did you always want to be a soldier, Anny?"

"I… guess so. I'm not sure, really. My father was a 20-year man and I wasn't born until after he retired. My older brother, Peter, he was always army-mad and everyone expected him to follow in our father's footsteps. Da had come from a long line of men who had served. He'd tell these great stories about his time with the fleet—he was an assault trooper, too. Peter and him would play army in the woods and sometimes they let me play with them. But then Peter was killed…"

"How?"

"Logging accident. He had an after-school job and one day a load of logs fell on him."

"I'm sorry. Up in those mountains you'd be a long way from any emergency medical care."

Anny nodded. She could still feel the shock and pain. "It killed my da. He just couldn't handle it. He died less than a year afterwards."

"So you took your brother's place." Tropio was staring at her intently.

"I promised my da I would. He didn't believe me, of course, but it made him smile. It was the first time he'd smiled since Peter died. And the last time, too."

"So you made an impossible promise. One that you couldn't possibly keep. But you kept it anyway, even though it was impossible."

"I… I had a lot of help. I never would have even had the chance without Countess Vorkosigan's help."

"Somehow I doubt she sought you out, Anny."

"Well, no, but…"

"You've got grit. Should have known you would—you'd never have made it here without it."

"Sounds like you and your girls have a fair share of grit, too, Chris."

"Hell, yes. You could use the lot of us for sandpaper."

Anny laughed. "I think it's going to be fun having you around."

"Well, fun or not, I'm gonna be here with you for the next four months. No telling where they'll send us once we get where we're going, but until then we're roommates." Tropio stuck out her hand. They had already shaken hands when they first met, but Anny took the hand and shook it again.

Before either of them could say anything else, an announcement came over the intercom: "Attention! All 1st Battalion officers report to the briefing room. D-Deck, compartment D-02. Repeat: All…"

Anny popped to her feet. "Gotta go! See you later, Chris."

"Okay," replied the woman. "Still got some unpacking to do and I need to check on my girls. Oh, and we're gonna have to talk about this dog-robber of yours, too. I know you gotta pay him, but if he's gonna be doing chores for me, too, then I ought to chip in."

Anny went out into the corridor and saw that it was filled with officers heading forward. At the end of the corridor there was a large compartment with tables and chairs and even viewports looking out. The attack transports were designed to be able to keep a fighting force in good condition even after extended periods in space. So even though the men were crammed together in their berthing spaces, there were a number of larger compartments where men could gather in more comfort. One deck below this officer's briefing room there was an even bigger space where the troops could exercise or relax. Anny found a seat and was pleased when Patric sat on one side of her and Sven Estaban on the other.

"How are you doing, guys?" she asked. "All settled in?"

"Nearly," replied Patric.

"Yeah, and have you heard? There are _women_ on this ship!" said Estaban, grinning.

"What? No way!" said Anny, grinning back at him. "You must have been seeing things!"

"Well, I haven't actually seen any myself, but I have it from a reliable source. Nurses or something."

"Really?" said Patric. "Maybe I'll go stub my toe and check things out for myself."

"Actually, I'm bunking with one of them. Seems nice."

"Oh, ho!" crowed Estaban. "Introduce me to her will you?"

"She might be a bit old for you, Sven…"

"I like older women! Is she pretty?"

Anny was saved having to answer that when Major Vorglanov came into the room. Everyone shut up and jumped to their feet. Vorglanov went to a podium at the front of the room; he had a small smile on his face. He'd been looking pleased with himself, Anny thought, ever since his promotion to major. There had been a whole wave of promotions in the regiment in preparation for the expedition. Most of them were long overdue. And a number of new officers had transferred in, as well. With this the first chance for real combat in many years, anyone with any ambition wanted to be part of it. If they had influence, they pulled whatever strings they had. And apparently the high command had felt that with replacements a four-month trip away, it would be sensible to send some extra officers along. As a result, the 61st (and presumably the other regiments) were now actually over-strength. There were a half-dozen new faces among the battalion's officers, in addition to Patric Mederov. One of them, an Ensign Vorstuban, had been assigned to C Company. He'd graduated with her class from the Academy, but she didn't really know him. _And he wasn't on the assault trooper track with us. How'd he manage to get here?_

"Good evening, everyone, sit down please," said Vorglanov. "Quite a day, eh? I know everyone's tired, so I won't keep you long. I just wanted to reiterate some of things I said dirtside, now that you've had a chance to see the ship. We've got quite a challenge facing us. And I'm not talking about what's waiting for us at Nova Paveo! I'm talking about what's facing us right here on this ship! We've got a four month trip ahead of us with only three or four scheduled chances for shore leave. The men are going to get edgy and bored and unless we officers do our jobs to maintain discipline and keep their fighting edge, we'll be delivering a dispirited mob instead of a battalion of Imperial soldiers. We _will_ do our jobs, gentlemen!" Vorglanov stared at them with a stern expression. "Now, most of you have spent time with the fleet before, so this isn't new. You already know a lot of the tricks to keep the men happy and focused. But this is a longer trip than normal and at the end of it we'll be going into combat instead of returning home. Frankly, we don't have much experience in a mission of this type so we have to expect surprises to pop up.

"One thing that will add some interesting challenges and opportunities is the multi-national nature of this venture. Over the next few weeks we will be rendezvousing with the other contingents of the expedition. I've been informed that once that is complete we will be having some joint exercises with the other forces. In addition to that, we will be having 'social' contacts with our counterparts. I'm not entirely sure just what that will entail, but I'll pass along any information when I get it. But in the meantime we will train the men and keep them busy. Obviously the facilities on the ship are limited and we will have to rotate the men through them and that will mean an around-the-clock duty schedule which will be posted shortly. Questions?"

"Uh, yes sir," said Captain Harris of B Company. "When can we expect to get some tactical briefings about our mission on Nova Paveo?"

Vorglanov snorted. "Good question! I wish I had an answer. All I've been told is that we will be briefed at some point. I suspect that it won't be until the last minute. And I guess I can't really blame the generals for that. Any information we have is months out of date and will be even more out of date as time goes by. Our mission may have to be completely re-written once we get there and see what the situation really is. Brigadier Sylvanus has informed us that we will be getting a thorough briefing on the planet itself, its geography, climate and inhabitants, but tactical briefings are going to have to wait. Not the best situation, I know, but there it is"

Vorglanov gave them a few more bits of routine instructions and looked to be about to dismiss them when he paused. "Oh yes, one more thing: we have a hospital company attached to us and as I'm sure most of you have already heard, there are some female technicians among them. Gentlemen! There will be no… how do I put this…?" Vorglanov paused.

_He's going to say it. I just know he's going to say it… _thought Anny.

"Shenanigans," said Vorglanov. Anny groaned softly. "Yes, that's the word: _shenanigans_. There will be no shenanigans, gentlemen. No fraternization between these women and the men. Those orders come right from the top. Those women will be treated with the utmost respect. Remind your men that at some point in future those women may be literally holding their lives in their hands. They are professional medical personnel, as highly skilled in their fields as any of us are in ours. No inappropriate behavior will be tolerated. If any issues arise—any issues at all concerning those women—you will report them to…" Vorglanov hesitated and his eyes scanned over the assembled officers.

_Oh shit…_

"Lieutenant Payne," the inevitable words came out of his mouth and Anny winced. "Yes, Lieutenant Payne will be our liaison with the female medical technicians." He focused on her. "Payne, you will see to it that no trouble arises, understood?"

Anny stifled the exasperated sigh that was struggling to get out and simply said: "Yes, sir. I understand."


	16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_D__ear Abbie,_

_I think I read somewhere that someone described traveling by ship as having all the boredom and confinement of being in a prison with none of the safety. I'm coming to believe that he was right! I've never considered myself an outdoors person, but right now I'd give half my inheritance for an hour's stroll in the woods. And I'm really coming to hate wormhole jumps! Some serious Bulkhead Fever here._

Alby Vorsworth leaned back in his chair and sighed. They were only three weeks on their way and he was ready to scream. And he wasn't even sure why. The training cruise in his senior year had lasted almost six months and it hadn't bothered him the way this was. Of course he wasn't being kept quite so busy this time. On the training cruise he'd been a probationary 'ensign junior grade' and that meant that he was given every scut job that the real officers didn't want to do. This time he was a lieutenant on the regimental staff. Not that Colonel Fetherbay and his senior staff didn't find plenty for Alby to do! But still, they couldn't find enough to keep him busy for every waking hour, even in a shrunken standard 24-hour day.

Barrayar's day was 26.7 hours and that was the one Alby was used to. But the other two planets in the Empire had different length days and the planets of the Nexus had an enormous variety, with days lasting from a few hours to a few months. When within the Empire, ships' 'days' were adjusted to match that of the planet they were operating near, but when traveling the Nexus the ships operated on the 24-hour day of Old Earth. Nearly everyone followed that convention and clocks on ships all over the nexus were synchronized with the moment of midnight in a small town on a small island on a planet that few had ever visited. It was all for safety reasons, of course; when ships had to make maneuvers timed to the split second it made sense to make sure everyone was using the same second!

Alby leaned forward and resumed typing. _How are things going with you? Only a few more months and you'll be a senior! Top of the heap! How are things working out with the new Commandant? I've heard a few rumors that he's not quite so friendly toward you girls as Sylvanus was. Did I mention in my last letter that he's now our brigade commander? I see him fairly often at staff meetings. I have to say that being on the flagship is a mixed blessing. I guess I know more about what's going on than most people, but I sure miss seeing Anny and Jer and Patric. And I miss you, too, girl! I just hope…_

Alby heard the door slide open and he banished his letter from the screen. "You ready to go, Vorsworth—shit! You aren't even dressed!" Alby spun around and saw Lieutenant Nate Gilchrist, his roommate, standing in the doorway—in his dress greens. He hurriedly checked the time.

"What's the rush?" he asked, puzzled. "That reception doesn't start for over an hour."

"We still have to get over there! The shuttle is leaving in five minutes!"

"What? You mean it isn't _here_?" Alby lurched out of his chair.

"Alby, you idiot!" snapped Gilchrist. "Didn't you read the orders? The reception is on the Cetagandan flagship!"

"Oh crap!" Alby started frantically dragging out his dress greens with one hand and trying to undo the fasteners on his black fatigues with the other.

"No time to change here!" cried Gilchrist. "Bring your stuff and you can change on the shuttle!" He scooped up Alby's boots and belt. "Come on!"

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_ moaned Alby to himself as he followed Gilchrist through the labyrinthine corridors of the _Prince Serg. _The ship was enormous and it was a long run to the shuttles. When she had been launched, before Alby was even born, she was arguably the most powerful warship in the human galaxy. There were a few others in various fleets (including Barrayar's) that might claim that title now, but the venerable _Serg_ was still the pride of the Barrayaran fleet. She'd been designed as a flagship from the start and the accommodations for staffs and various hangers-on were extensive. The expedition commander, Admiral Lord Vorburke, had decided that he wanted all the senior officers, both for the fleet and the ground forces, aboard the _Serg_ during the long voyage to Nova Paveo for ease of communications and consultation. Alby could tell that Colonel Fetherbay would have preferred to stay closer to his troops, but since the regiment was spread out on three different transports anyway, this was an acceptable compromise.

He and Gilchrist clattered down a companionway to the deck holding the hanger bays for the shuttles. There was a crowd of people waiting there, preparing to board a pair of shuttles. "Thank God all the senior officers and the civilians are on their own shuttle," hissed Gilchrist. "All the junior staff are on that other one. Come on, and try to not look conspicuous!" They gave all the big brass as wide a berth as possible and slipped into the crowd of junior officers just as the shuttle's hatch hissed open. Alby tried to sneak aboard quickly, but there was a crunch at the hatch and he was forced to wait. He felt incredibly conspicuous in his black fatigues. He glanced toward the other shuttle and Fetherbay was staring at him. Brigadier Sylvanus was standing right next to him and his eyes turned in Alby's direction, too. Sylvanus made some comment and Fetherbay grimaced. _Great._ The clog cleared out and Alby made it aboard.

Immediately the other officers began making comments about his dress. Those who actually knew him well made jokes at his expense, but he just smiled and gave back as good as he got. Well, nearly. He was clearly on the defensive here.

"Hey Alby, sleeping on the job again?"

"Your clock still set on Barrayaran time?"

"Nah," said Gilchrist. "He was writing love letters to his girlfriend." The other laughed and Alby blushed.

"Hey, at least I've _got_ one!" he replied. This drew more laughs and groans. He shucked off his fatigues and pulled on his dress greens as quickly as he could. For a moment he panicked when he couldn't find his cap, but then Gilchrist handed it to him. At least he didn't have to worry about the stupid sword. Standing orders were for no swords aboard ship—and the Cetagandans probably wouldn't appreciate a bunch of sword-armed Barrayaran savages on their flagship. He pulled his tunic into place and brushed his hand against his medals to make sure they were straight and then surveyed the sets of eyes still focused on him. There wasn't another man aboard, even the captains, who could boast two wound medals and the Distinguished Service Star that he wore. The Infantry Combat Badge and the Assault Landing Badge with one star were pretty much unique, too. He was a combat veteran, damn it! So let the others laugh. He took the seat next to Gilchrist just as the shuttle moved out of the hanger bay.

"So why's this circus being held on the Cetagandan flagship?" asked Alby.

"I don't know," admitted Gilchrist. "But they were the last task force to join up with us. I guess they want to play host."

"Probably just want to show off."

"Yeah, that, too. Ever met a Ceta?"

Alby thought back. "Nope. Don't think so."

"You'd remember if you had. I have, twice. On my first shipboard tour, oh, almost five years ago now. Bumped into them on a couple of shore leaves. Worst bunch of stuck-up bastards I ever met."

"How jolly. So what are they dragging us along for? A batch of lieutenants and junior captains? I'd have thought this would just be for the big brass."

"Dunno. But it ought to be interesting."

"But they aren't bringing all the staffs," persisted Alby. "There are what? Thirty of us here? Between the expedition HQ, the Fleet HQ, the two brigade HQs and the four regimental HQs we've got about a battalion's worth of staff lackeys—most of whom outrank us. Why'd we get the honor?"

"Like I said, I don't know. Just lucky I guess. Now shut up, it's a thirty minute trip and I'm gonna take a nap." Gilchrist slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes.

Alby frowned in envy. Gilchrist was one of those lucky ones who could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and wake instantly, fully alert. Alby stared out the 'port for a while, catching a brief glimpse of the rapidly dwindling _Prince Serg_ and then, for lack of anything better to do, he pulled out his computer pad and called up the information that was available on the Cetagandan task force. There wasn't a lot. A list of ships and the military units they were carrying, short bios on the senior officers, synopses on Cetagandan military procedures and tactics. The only thing that really caught his eye were the specs on the Cetaganda flagship, the _Celestial Tiger_. It was enormous, even bigger than the _Serg._ Newer, too; the navy only had guesstimates about its armament and capabilities. Alby was certain that there were Barrayaran sensor officers trying to get a look past the Ceta's shields to fill in some of those blanks at this very moment. Some of the naval officers aboard this shuttle probably had orders to do as much sightseeing as they could once aboard, too.

"My God! Would you _look_ at that thing!" An exclamation from up forward jogged Alby out of his musings. He followed the turned heads of the other passengers and looked out the 'port. Ah, the very subject of his study had come into view.

Barrayaran warships were all sharp angles, deliberately reminiscent of swords and spears and battle axes. They looked fast and dangerous. Cetagandan warships were… different. They were built all in sweeping curves, almost… organic in shape. Like some rare and exotic orchids that had been bred for space travel. As with everything the Cetas did, they were elegant. Beautiful, even. Still dangerous, though; somehow you knew they were dangerous despite their beauty.

And the _Celestial Tiger_ was indeed beautiful. It was painted—did the Cetas use anything so crude as paint?—all in blues. From deep midnight blues that almost vanished into the background blackness, to delicate arctic blues that reminded Alby of the snow at Fort Vorolson. He stared at it in wonder…

"Yeah, but can it _fight_?" growled one of the other officers. That brought forth laughter and the spell was broken. That was the real question, after all, wasn't it? Alby imagined that despite its beauty the ship could still be torn to bits if a gravitic imploder lance got past its defenses.

There seemed to be a number of other shuttles converging on the ship's docking bays and they had to wait. The naval officers aboard spent the time speculating whether this lump or that bump was a weapons mount or a shield emitter; Alby just enjoyed the show. Finally, it was their turn to dock and the shuttle slid into a cradle in the hanger bay.

As they debarked, Alby noticed the other shuttle from the _Serg_ a few dozen meters away in another cradle. The last of its passengers were just unloading. He and all the other junior officers headed that way and reattached themselves to their commanders. Fetherbay raised an eyebrow when he saw him. "Everything in order now, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir. Sorry about that."

"Try to stay out of trouble, will you?"

"I'll do my best sir." Fetherbay's expression seemed to say that he wasn't sure if Alby's best would be good enough. But he didn't say anything else and turned away.

Alby looked back at the shuttle and started in surprise. He hadn't been able to get a good look at the 'hanger bay' on the way in and now that he did, he gasped. There wasn't really any bay at all. The place looked as though it was open to the vacuum of space. Only the faint shimmer of force screens showed what was keeping the air in. As he watched, the shuttles were pushed through the screen on their cradles and then flew off. Two new shuttles were lining up in the distance to make their own approach. And in the other direction the 'bay' connected with an enormous open space, crowded with people.

"Damnation," whispered Gilchrist beside him. "I sure hope those force fields don't fail!"

"You were right," replied Alby. "They are a bunch of show-offs. It's impressive, but I'll take good solid metal bulkheads any day!"

"That's for sure! But look at this place! It's as big as Emperor Ezar's Hall at the Academy! Mostly open space, too! How can they give over this much volume to some damn reception hall—on a warship!"

"I'm thinking that the _Celestial Tiger_ ought to be named the _Paper Tiger_," said Alby. "Just a hollow shell. All show and no substance."

"Well, not _all_ show," said a navy lieutenant who had overheard them. "There's still enough ship left for a lot of other stuff. But, you are right that this thing can't be near as powerful as she looks from the outside. I bet the old _Serg_ could take her in a fight."

"Let's hope we don't have to find out," said Alby. "Which way to the food?"

"Not sure if we're supposed to… oh, okay, here we go," said Gilchrist. A batch of Cetagandans in their blood-red dress uniforms had appeared to escort the Barrayaran contingent. The officers had the full, traditional face paint of the ghem class. The swirling patterns, which held some significance Alby didn't understand, made it very difficult to read the expressions on their faces. The enlisted men only wore a painted glyph of some sort, a unit designation, he supposed, on one cheek, but their expressions were nearly blank, just an understandable caution in the presence of dangerous former enemies and dubious current allies.

There was an exchange between the escort commander and Admiral Vorburke and Ambassador Vorpinski that Alby couldn't overhear and then the whole gaggle headed off to join the others in the enormous open space ahead of them. It really was an absurdly ostentatious thing to have on a warship. A transparent domed ceiling soared overhead showing a vast starscape. Walkways curved through formal gardens (did the Cetas have any other kind?) linking larger platforms on different levels. It was really quite lovely. Thinking back to his interrupted letter to Abbie, he felt that this was almost as good as the walk in the woods he'd been wishing for. Hundreds of other guests from the expedition, most dressed in an eye-bewildering array of military uniforms, moved about, tended by nearly an equal number of servants. The space wasn't as large as it had seemed at first, there were some clever architectural touches to make it seem bigger, but still…

The Barrayarans were escorted to one of the platforms and asked to wait there. Apparently there was going to be some sort of formal welcoming ceremony as soon as the last contingent was in place—and they were just arriving now. Servants appeared bearing drinks and Alby snagged one. The crystal glass contained a clear golden liquid that he sniffed and then sipped. "What's that?" asked Gilchrist who was eyeing his own glass of ruby-red.

"Not sure," replied Alby. "Wine, I guess. Not much kick to it."

"Well, go easy. I don't want to have to carry you home."

"You know me."

"Yeah, exactly!" Alby smirked at that. Gilchrist was senior to him but he was all right. He'd gotten to know the man at HQ before they left and now that they were rooming together they were becoming friends… sort of.

"Okay, okay, I'll… holy shit! Will you look at _her_!"

"What…? Oh my God…"

A party of Cetagandans was moving along a walkway just in front of them. There were a number of officers in the red uniforms, but in the center of the group were a man and a woman, wearing flowing, multi-layered robes rather than uniforms. The man had his face painted in the most elaborate patterns Alby had yet seen. The man was probably someone important, but Alby only had eyes for the woman. She was tall, and even though the walkway she was on had to be at least two meters below his own platform, it still seemed like he was looking up at her. She had an impossible cascade of space-black hair that tumbled down her shoulders and her back to trail on the floor. Her face… her face was incredible. He couldn't even begin to describe it, but it was the most stunningly beautiful face he'd ever seen. Ageless, like some immortal fairy queen. Young as spring, ancient as winter… Alby suddenly gasped for the breath he had been holding.

"One of the haut women," said Gilchrist.

"Has to be," whispered Alby in agreement.

"Close your mouth, you're drooling."

"No I'm not…! _Damn_!" Alby ran his hand over his mouth.

The Cetagandans stopped on a platform in the center of the chamber and the man made some sort of speech welcoming the guests and praising this unprecedented act of galactic cooperation, but Alby scarcely heard him. He couldn't take his eyes off the woman. He'd heard about them, even seen some vids of them, but they hadn't prepared him for the reality of them. The Cetagandan haut women were the stuff of legends.

The social structure of the Cetagandan Empire was very complex and only partially understood by outsiders. At the top were the haut. These were a relatively small group of genetically engineered men and women who ruled the Empire. The exact nature of their gengineering was a closely guarded secret although it obviously had produced at least one incredibly beautiful woman. Supposedly all the haut women were like that. What else their efforts might have wrought was less obvious. Long-life, yes, the emperors and empresses for whom dates of birth and death were known indicated life spans well over a hundred and fifty years, but that wasn't all that unusual among the other galactics. But as far as anyone knew there were no real supermen being produced. No immensely strong, immensely smart, telepathic super mutant hauts had ever been encountered. What, exactly, the haut were up to with their genetic manipulations was a mystery.

The other question was how the hauts maintained control over their subjects. Next on the ladder were the ghem. Alby's galactic sociology teacher at the Academy, a Polian named Glickman, had once likened the ghem to the Barrayaran Vor class. That had nearly caused a riot in the classroom and by the next semester Professor Glickman had left. But as insulting as it might seem to a Barrayaran, Alby had to admit that the comparison wasn't that outrageous. The ghem filled nearly all the officer ranks in the Cetagandan military and the upper ranks of the civil administration as well, much as the Vor had once done on Barrayar. No one was really certain if, or to what extent, the ghem's genes might have been tinkered with, but again, nothing extraordinary had ever been encountered. But it was clear that while the haut ruled, it was the ghem who actually ran the Empire and kept control of the working classes who vastly outnumbered both the haut and the ghem combined.

The ghem ruled the lower classes through force and the threat of force, but why the ghem submitted to the haut was another mystery. There were far more of the ghem and they were in command of the military and the civil government.

_Or maybe it's not that much of a mystery! _

Alby continued to stare at the haut woman. The man she was standing next to must be the ghem-ambassador to the expedition and she was his wife. A wife awarded to him for his service—and to ensure his continuing service. To be given a haut wife was just about the highest honor a ghem could receive. There was also the rumor that the haut controlled a horrifically powerful arsenal of biological weapons to keep the ghem in line, but from what he was seeing, Alby speculated that the carrots were probably far more effective than any stick.

"Oh to be a successful ghem!" he sighed.

"You're not kidding," agreed Gilchrist.

But the welcoming speech was over and sadly the ambassador and his wife moved away. Alby was half-tempted to follow to try and get a better look, but he restrained himself. This was ridiculous! She was just a woman, no matter how beautiful. And she belonged to someone else. He shook himself, half drained his glass, and looked around for food.

This was quickly found, provided by another swarm of servants with trays. Tiny canapés and hors d'oeuvres and little sandwiches, each one a work of art that it was almost a shame to eat. Almost. Alby gulped them down by the handful. The chow on his ship wasn't bad, but this was amazing.

Once the immediate threat of starvation was averted, he and Gilchrist began to mingle with the other guests. They were nearly all military men—oops! Wait a minute, not all of them were men. Looking closely he saw that a fair proportion of the officers here were, in fact women. Sexually mixed militaries were, by far, the rule in the Nexus. Barrayar and Cetaganda were two of the notable exceptions. _Wow, it's a shame Anny isn't here! I wonder what she would think of this?_ He puzzled over the ranks worn on the confusing array of different uniforms, but it was clear that at least some of the women were senior officers. He smiled, visualizing Anny someday in a general's uniform. If anyone could make it happen, she could.

He was able to identify the contingents from Escobar and Pol and Vervain without any difficulty, but some of the others defeated him. Well, the Earth contingent was easy to spot simply because the variety of uniforms from its nation-states was by far the greatest in any other grouping.

"It's _kilt_, mon!" cried one of them suddenly. "Not a bloody sarong! A kilt!"

"Glad he clarified that," said Gilchrist. "I would have taken him for a Betan, too."

"I've never seen any Betan with a set of whiskers like those," said Alby.

"True."

Alby chatted with a few of the friendlier looking officers. Most of them seemed quite excited by the prospect of some combat on Novo Paveo. After a bit he noticed a cute female officer who wasn't talking to anyone else at the moment. He walked over and said: "Hi."

"Hi yourself," she replied, looking him up and down. "Barrayaran?"

"Yes. And you're from Earth?"

"Canada."

"That's part of Earth, right?"

"Last I checked, yes."

"Alby Vorsworth, here." He extended his hand.

"Izabella Cresswell-Jones." She took his hand and shook it. "Enjoying the circus?"

"Oh yes. When do they bring on the dancing bear and the jugglers?"

The woman laughed and her voice had a nice musical quality to it. "They really are sort of overdoing it, aren't they? The Cetas, I mean."

"That's always been their style, I guess."

"That's right, you Barrayarans have had a closer look at them than most people, haven't you?"

"I guess. It's all sort of ancient history to most of us, though. The Occupation, I mean. My grandfather fought them, but I don't think the current generation has the sort of hatred for them that his generation did."

"So you don't have a problem working with them?"

Alby shrugged. "All you Earthers have fought each other at one point or another, haven't you? It sure seemed that way in the one history course I took. And yet you're all working together now."

"True," said the woman, shrugging in turn. "But most of our wars really are ancient history, not just two generations removed."

"I'm on the staff of an infantry regiment. You?"

"Junior intelligence officer for our naval squadron."

"Ah, then we're not likely to cross paths. Pity."

"Our paths crossed here," she said, smiling. "So who knows?"

"That's true," said Alby, smiling back. "Maybe we can…"

"Hey Alby." He looked over his shoulder and there was Gilchrist.

"What?" he said, trying not frown. _Find your own, dammit!_

"Colonel wants us. Now."

"Drat." He looked back at Cresswell-Jones. "Sorry, gotta go."

"Duty calls. But I'm aboard the _Toronto_, give me a call if you have the time."

"I certainly will. See you." He reluctantly turned away and followed Gilchrist.

"I thought you _had_ a girlfriend."

"Just being friendly. What's the Old Man want?"

"You'll see."

"That means you know something. Come on, Nate, spill it!"

"You'll see. Be patient."

Alby had no choice but to follow along as Gilchrist wove his way through the throngs of officers and servants. Eventually they reached a platform that wasn't quite so crowded. Colonel Fetherbay was waiting there, but so was Brigadier Sylvanus and General Vordanov, the overall ground forces commander, a man he recognized as Ambassador Vorpinski, several Cetagandans and… and…

"Major Vorpatril," he blurted out. Sure enough, his father's aide from before he retired was standing there. But he was in civilian clothes and had a striking woman on his arm who looked strangely familiar.

"Not 'major' anymore, Lieutenant," said Vorpatril with a smile. "Finished my twenty years about six months ago."

"He's just Lord Ivan Xav now," said the woman. "Deputy Counsel Lord Ivan Xav to be exact."

"Oh, I see," said Alby. "Uh, congratulations, sir."

"Thanks. And this is my wife, Tej. Tej, this is Alby Vorsworth, the General's son. I think you might have seen him at Vorkosigan House once or twice."

"Oh, of course. How is your father these days, Alby?" asked the woman.

Yes, that's where he'd seen her before. "Uh, actually, not so good, I'm afraid. He's not handling retirement too well."

"Oh dear, sorry to hear that."

Alby shrugged, but before he could think of a reply, Ambassador Vorpinski broke in. "Gentlemen, ladies, as Ghem-Ambassador Driden said a short while ago, this expedition is an unprecedented experiment in galactic cooperation. One aspect of that cooperation that has not been widely talked about—at least on Barrayar—is the agreement for an officer-exchange program."

_Officer exchange!_ thought Alby in shock. _Omigod, they aren't planning to send me off somewhere…?_

"This will not only allow the forces of the expedition to work together more efficiently as we learn each other's operating procedures," continued Vorpinski, "but it will foster a sense of camaraderie among the troops. We have all agreed that this is a good thing."

_Why didn't they warn me? But wait, Nate certainly knows something! Maybe they aren't…_

"We will be sending off a half-dozen of our young officers to some of the other contingents. Lieutenant Gilchrist has graciously volunteered to spend some time with our Cetagandan allies. "Thank you, Lieutenant!" Vorpinski nodded at Gilchrist.

"My pleasure, sir. I look forward to the opportunity."

_Nate, you rat! Why didn't you tell me? But then what am I doing here?_

At Vorpinski's gesture, the Cetagandans stepped forward. One was a general, if Alby was reading the complicated rank insignia correctly. The other was the equivalent of a major. The third was much younger and just a lieutenant—or something.

"Ghem-General Olan, may I present Lieutenant Nathaniel Gilchrist of the 61st Imperial Infantry." Gilchrist came to attention and saluted crisply.

The Cetagandan simply nodded in return. "Welcome to my staff, Lieutenant. I hope that you will find the experience… interesting."

"I'm sure I will, sir."

"Ghem-Force-Leader Jenow will acquaint you with your duties." Olan indicated the mid-ranking officer. "And now, in exchange I present you with Ghem-Platoon-Chief Benin. He is a son of the head of security of the Celestial Garden itself. I trust you will take good care of him." The young Cetagandan stepped up, clicked his heels together and bowed stiffly to Vorpinski.

"Ah, yes," said Vorpinski. "Welcome Ghem-Platoon-Chief, your father's reputation is well-known. We have given some thought as to who should be your… host while you are with us." He glanced toward Alby.

_Oh God, no…_

"This is Lieutenant Albustus Vorsworth. He comes from a long line of exceptional officers. His father was head of our Operations Center until he retired just recently."

"The Vorsworths are known to us," said Olan. "This is acceptable."

"Excellent," said Vorpinski. "Lieutenant, say hello to your new roommate."

[Scene Break]

Ivan grinned at the look on Vorsworth's face. The young man looked completely gobsmacked, but managed to stammer out some sort of reply. His colonel took charge of him and Benin and moved off with them. The exchange ceremony was over so Ivan took Tej's arm and headed away in search of a few more of those incredible little canapés they'd been serving. "Having fun?" he asked Tej.

"Oh yes," she replied, "This is simply amazing. I begin to see why my grandmother was so annoyed at being sent away from the Celestial Garden."

"Yeah, I guess Barrayar, Komarr, and even Earth probably seemed a bit drab in comparison." As improbable as it seemed, Tej's grandmother was one of the haut women. _My children will have haut blood in them…_

"You've actually seen some of the Celestial Garden, how does this compare?"

"That was almost twenty years ago, Tej. Miles saw a lot more of it than I did and I was… distracted a lot. But yeah, this brings back a few memories." _Hell of a thing to stick on a warship, though!_

"You said that you've met that young officer's father?"

"Briefly. He was just a colonel then, although as a result of Miles' little adventure he was promoted to general."

"How about his mother?"

"No, never met her. And I gather that this kid's mother is one of Dag's first wives. He's since been awarded a haut-lady and has been cranking out a few new sons. This poor sod is just an also-ran now, I'd wager."

"Oh dear. Do you suppose that angers him?"

"Hard to say. The whole Cetagandan class system is so confusing. His father's status is elevated by the haut-wife, which will elevate his status, too, but he'll always be junior to these new sons even though he's a lot older. Or so I guess." He spotted a servant with a full tray and snagged a few of the treats it bore and handed one to Tej.

They walked for a bit, taking in the kaleidoscope display of uniforms. It still felt strange to not be wearing one himself.

"Do you miss it, Ivan Xav?" asked Tej.

"Miss what?"

"Being a soldier?"

"Of course not!"

"Yes you do. I can tell by the way you look at the other officers. The way you keep almost saluting generals and such."

"Well, maybe a little. Twenty years of habit doesn't get erased overnight. But I'm still happy to be done with it all, at last."

"Good. But this is quite an amazing display. I never dreamed there could be so many different uniforms! It's like some sort of martial fashion show!"

"Yeah," chuckled Ivan. "Half of these I have no clue…" he paused, catching sight of one uniform he _did_ recognize. _Well, well, well…_ He headed in the direction of a batch of officers all wearing light gray uniforms. He looked around but didn't see any familiar faces. Maybe he was wrong…

"Well hello, Ivan," said a voice from behind him. "Fancy meeting you here."

He turned and there was the person he'd been looking for. A tallish woman with dark hair and a strikingly beautiful face.

"Oh, uh, hi, Elli," he managed to say.

"It's been a while," said the woman.

"You know this… person, Ivan Xav?" asked Tej, who was frowning.

"Just… professionally. Tej, dear, let me introduce Admiral Elli Quinn, commander of the Dendarii Free Mercenaries."


	17. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Anny followed Captain Vorstang off the shuttle and then turned to look at Chris Tropio who was right behind her. Immediately behind Chris were the eight other women from her hospital company. All of them gazed around in wonder at the sight of their first alien world. The planet was called Lengkeek and, at first glance, it appeared pleasantly terrestrial: blue skies, white puffy clouds, green hills.

"Everyone got their sunblock on?" demanded Tropio of the girls. "Kara, where are your glasses?"

"Uh, right here…"

"Put them on and keep them on!"

"Yes, ma'am," sighed the woman, fitting her glasses in place.

Lengkeek might look nice, but its atmosphere let in a much higher amount of ultra-violet radiation than was healthy for most humans. Anny, like the other women, was wearing issue sunblock that had about the same density as lead and a set of protective glasses. The locals, both humans and the imported plant and animal life, had adapted, or been adapted enough to tolerate it, but visitors needed to be careful.

And just at the moment, Lengkeek was seeing a hell of a lot of visitors.

The Fleet was a little over a month on its way to Novo Paveo and Lengkeek had been picked as the first of three stops for resupply and shore leave. They'd be staying here for ten days to let all the personnel rotate down for some R&R. A third of them had already come and gone and now it was the turn of the Barrayarans and a few smaller contingents. There were a dozen shuttles sitting on the pads of the small space port, disgorging people, and Anny knew that there were plenty more waiting to come down. She could see crowds of people in uniform from the last wave wandering toward the town of Stiversville in the distance. From what she'd heard, Lengkeek was bending over backwards to accommodate the influx. It was a small-population planet without a lot of industry or exports and the flood of off-world cash the Fleet would bring would be a bonanza. Mobs of locals had descended on Stiversville to greet the potential pigeons… er, customers.

"Lieutenant Payne," said Vorstang.

"Yes sir?"

"Are you going to be all right with your… charges?"

"I think so, sir. Shouldn't be a problem."

"All right then, I will leave you to it. Have fun, but stay out of trouble."

"Of course, sir. Enjoy your shore leave, Captain." Vorstang nodded and moved off into the crowd. Anny watched him for a moment and then turned to face Tropio.

"So, what would you like to do? We've got two days."

"You mean now that Ol' Iron Britches is gone?" asked Tropio with a grin.

"Vorstang's okay. He just doesn't like things that upset his routine."

"Then how does he manage to deal with you?"

"He's still working on that. But I ask again: what would you like to do?"

"Well, the first thing is for you to find Jer! I want to meet this guy—and you've been kept apart way too long."

"It hasn't been that long," protested Anny, although it seemed like forever.

"Yeah, right! You were making love to him in your sleep last night—again." The other women laughed but Anny blushed furiously.

"Sorry…"

"Patric will be with him, won't he?" asked one of the other women, a medtech named Lyra Gundsen. Lyra and Patric had been making eyes at each for a few weeks, Anny had noticed. And they weren't the only pair.

"And Sven Estaban?" asked another.

"And I want to meet that Alby Vorsworth you keep talking about—he sounds like fun!"

Anny looked at the women in consternation. "What am I running here, a dating service?"

"Just lead us to them! We'll handle it from there!" exclaimed Terri Burt and everyone laughed. Even Anny.

"All right! All right! The message I got from Jer said his battalion landed about an hour ago. He says there is some sort of tall monument or temple in the main square of the town. He and the others will be waiting for us there."

"So let's go!"

"Lead on, Lieutenant!"

Smiling, Anny headed in the direction that everyone else seemed to be going. Through some tree-like things, she thought she could see a large structure rearing up in the distance. That was probably where Jer was waiting. The thought of seeing him again soon set her tingling. The road leading from the landing area to the town was lined with commercial enterprises. Maybe a third of them were in permanent structures and the rest were clearly temporary tents and pavilions erected just for this off-world invasion.

Crowds of natives were also lining the street. The genetic manipulation that allowed the people here to handle the UV overdose gave them a skin that was almost a pure white with tinges of blue. Their hair was noticeably blue, too. The plant life was a deep purple for the most part, although other colors popped out here and there. It was pretty enough, Anny supposed, but she would have preferred green.

Anny stared at one of the natives and then said to Chris: "I would have thought that they'd have very dark skin. Isn't that the usual way for dealing with harsh sunlight?"

"Yes, usually," replied the medtech. "But I was reading up on these folks before we got here. Like you say, the usual response is to increase the melanin which darkens the skin color. But the UV is so high here that that just isn't enough. They had to take a different approach. Apparently they have a layer of cells under the skin that can actually reflect the UV instead of absorbing it. That's what gives them that white skin color."

"Huh."

"You can't see it except up close, but they also have modified eyes. An inner eyelid that acts like sunglasses." She touched the pair she was wearing.

"Wow, I'd heard about things like this, but it's the first time I've seen it firsthand."

"Yeah. And this is all pretty mundane, really, compared to some of the things humans have done to themselves to exist out among the stars. Makes you wonder just how far they can go before they stop being human anymore."

The group of women moved slowly through the crowd, taking in the different sights, sounds and smells. A lot of the establishments were selling food and drink; and were doing a brisk business. Shipboard food wasn't bad, but it did become monotonous after a while. Many of the other stands were selling handcrafted goods. Jewelry, pottery, clothing, wood carvings in some amazing colors, glasswork, all manner of beautiful object filled the shelves or the hands of the vendors, who were energetically thrusting them before the potential customers. Anny couldn't imagine that many of the larger items would find buyers; where would they store them once back on their ship? She had room for a few things in her cabin, but the enlistedmen's lockers were already stuffed to the brim with their gear. She wondered if the locals realized just what sort of people their visitors were?

_Oops, maybe they do!_

Several, well, quite a few, of the establishments were apparently selling goods that could be enjoyed on the spot and would not need to be taken back to the ships. They were not being displayed in quite as unabashed a fashion as they had been on one planet she'd visited on her apprentice cruise, but there was no doubt what was for sale. It reminded her a bit of the area around the main military shuttleport on Komarr.

And business seemed to be booming.

Lines of men in uniform were queued up outside. They were predominantly Barrayaran uniforms, but from what Anny understood, the Barrayaran forces would be the majority visitors for the next few days. There were some of the smaller contingents as well. The other big groups, like the Cetagandans, would have their own days, in fact the Cetas had already been and gone. She supposed that was partly to spare Stiversville having to host the entire expedition all at once, but mostly to keep former enemies from having to rub elbows too closely.

"You'd think those guys hadn't seen a woman in a year," tisked one of the medtechs. "It's been, what? A month since we left home?"

"Who do these women prey on between passing armadas?" wondered another.

"Probably every one of them on the planet is here," said Tropio. "The rest of the time they're more spread out, I guess."

"Wow, we should have brought a tent and set up shop, girls! After ten days we could all retire!"

The women all laughed and Anny forced herself to smile. She'd noticed that the Vivs were remarkably open when talking about sex and could make or take a dirty joke with the most ribald of the men. Their _behavior_, as far as Anny had been able to tell, was completely above board, but she supposed it was inevitable that their talk and humor would be like this. Thinking about it objectively, she realized that she wasn't really that much different. She had to maintain a certain level of decorum just because she was an officer, but she had to admit that some of her language and jokes would have shocked the Anny she'd been just four years earlier. _Part of the job description, I guess._

They made it past the bulk of the fleshpots and into the town proper. The buildings were mostly brick or covered in stucco and few were more than three or four stories high. They had balconies projecting out from the upper floors which created colonnaded walkways at street level which provided welcome shade from the bright sunlight. The ground floors were also mostly shops, but these were permanent establishments, not the temporary ones set up to serve the galactic influx. Even so, they were nearly as crowded as the pavilions by the shuttleport. Uniformed men—and a few women, Anny observed with interest—filled the stores and spilled out onto the sidewalk. She might have been tempted to investigate a few of the shops if there'd been any room to get inside.

It was noisy and if her wristcom hadn't been set to vibrate she probably wouldn't have noticed the incoming call. It was Jer.

"What's keeping you, Anny?" he demanded. "We're all waiting."

"Oh, it's slow work making our way through the crowd…"

"Sightseeing, huh? Well, there's only one sight I want to see and that's you, love! Hurry up!"

"Okay," she laughed. "I can just see that big tower-building you mentioned. You guys still there?"

"We're in a little park out front, under some trees. There's a bronze monstrosity that I think is supposed to be a sculpture and we're right next to it. You can't miss it."

"Okay, see you soon."

"Jer?" asked Chris Tropio, with a grin.

"Yeah, he's getting impatient."

"Well, let's not keep the poor boy waiting. Come on, girls!"

They picked up their pace as much as the crowds allowed and soon came to a huge open area in the town. The tall building reared up at one end and, as promised, a park occupied some of the square. There were several sculptures that could have been the monstrosity Jer had mentioned, but by the process of elimination they found the one where Jer and the others were waiting.

Anny found herself suddenly short of breath at the sight of her man. They collided with a small thud and her lips found his. Completely unmindful of the hoots from the other officers and women medtechs, they kissed for a good half-minute. A _very_ good half-minute, actually, despite the bitter taste of the sunblock on their lips. "Hi love," she gasped when they came up for air.

"Hi."

"Missed you."

"You, too."

"All right! All right, break it up you two!"

Anny turned her head and saw a grinning Alby Vorsworth. She disentangled herself from Jer and gave Alby a quick hug. "Alby! Good to see you!"

"And you! How have you been?"

"Not bad, but I've missed you and Jer. But heavens, I'm being rude! I've got some people who want to meet you, too!" She turned to beckon Chris and her brood forward. Introductions were made all around, although a few already knew each other, and the women seemed as delighted as the men. Several other officers from the regiment appeared to have attached themselves to the group, so the numbers were nearly even. But wait… who was that…?

Another young man had been lurking in the background and now Alby pulled him forward. His uniform wasn't Barrayaran and with a start Anny realized what it was: _Cetagandan!_

"Hey, everyone," said Alby, "I want you to meet my roommate: Ghem-Platoon-Chief Rad Benin. Rad, you probably didn't catch everyone's names—I didn't either—but don't worry. Say hello."

Anny stared at the man. He was tall, well-built and rather handsome. His hair was dark and cut quite short. The most striking thing about him was an elaborately painted design on his right cheek. Red, black and white lines swirled in a complicated pattern. She knew that Cetagandan ghem often painted their whole faces on formal occasions but she wasn't sure of the significance of this smaller design. Benin came up to about a meter away from her and made a stiff half-bow.

"Lieutenant Payne," he said. "Lieutenant Vorsworth has told me a great deal about you. It is an honor to meet you at last." He swept his eyes across the other women. "And the rest of you as well."

"Uh, nice to meet you, too," said Anny. Chris and her Vivs mumbled out replies, but were clearly as surprised as Anny. Alby had mentioned something about having a new roommate in one of his messages, but he hadn't said anything about this! He was standing behind Benin, grinning. He'd clearly been planning this—the rat!

"The Cetas don't have women in their army, either," said Alby, smirking. "So you're a novelty to him just like you are to all of us."

"Yes, I'm here to learn what I can about modern-day Barrayaran military procedures," said Benin. "I'm sure that observing you will be rewarding."

"I hope I'm an entertaining specimen," said Anny, not sure if she was amused or annoyed. Benin seemed to realize his misstep.

"Forgive me, I meant no offense," he said, bowing again, a little more deeply this time.

"And none was taken. We have things to learn about you, too, I'm sure."

"Anny is an experienced _combat_ officer," said Jer, "not some… ornament."

"Indeed, yes," said Benin. "I have no combat experience at all, myself. A situation I hope to rectify on this expedition."

"Another damn fire-eater," growled Alby in mock-disgust. "I'm surrounded by 'em! But there will be no combat today folks! We're here to have fun so let's have some!"

"Yes," said Sven Estaban, "let's look around the city."

The group—almost two dozen of them all told—sorted themselves out and strolled. Anny noted that there was an almost immediate pairing off of the female medtechs and the male officers. Sven was hovering next to Chris Tropio. Chris had an amused smile on her face. The other women were chatting with the men.

"Major Vorglanov charged me with preventing _shenanigans_ between the girls and the men," sighed Anny to Jer. "Managed to do it on the ship. Not sure I'm gonna be able to handle it dirtside."

"Yeah, especially with the very poor example you'll be setting for them tonight," grinned Jer, giving her a squeeze.

"Yeah…" She kissed him. "Missed you so much."

"But hey, Vorglanov can't seriously be thinking he can keep men or women from engaging in shenanigans while on shore leave! He'd have a mutiny if he even tried to enforce an order like that!"

"It does sort of fly in the face of tradition, doesn't it? But the hell with it. We're all adults here and the girls can handle themselves. I'm just gonna worry about handling you."

"That sounds good. In fact that sounds very good."

They wandered through the city with no plan or objective besides taking in the sights. They sampled the food and the drinks as the mood took them. As they got farther from the space port the crowds diminished a bit. Stiversville seemed to be a well-planned and well-maintained city. It was only a fraction the size—or the age—of Vorbarr Sultana, but it had its own charm and just strolling with Jer at her side was very pleasant indeed.

But as the too-bright sun started dipping toward the horizon Jer asked: "With all this mob ashore are we going to be able to find a place to stay tonight? I bet every hotel is jammed."

"Some of those tents we saw back near the spaceport were offering cots and showers for pretty cheap," said Sven Estaban. "I imagine that most of the enlistedmen will be choosing places like that to save their money for… other stuff."

"The weather's mild enough, we could just camp out in one of the parks," suggested one of the girls.

"Tish tosh!" said Alby, grinning in the way he did when he had Something Up His Sleeve. "We shall do no such thing. We have reservations."

"Reservations?" demanded a half-dozen people simultaneously. "Where?"

"Why right over there, if I'm not mistaken," replied Alby pointing to a large building a few blocks away.

"What's that?"

"I believe it's called the 'Stiversville Arms', or some such," said Alby. "But I'm told it's one of the best in the city. "I've reserved the Presidential Suite for us."

"That must have cost a fortune!" gasped Chris Tropio.

"A small one," admitted Alby.

"But how in the world did you arrange that?" demanded Anny. "With all the high-ranking officers and other VIPs in town I'd think all the best places would have been booked up."

"Well, as a matter of fact, most of them were, but the computer security on this planet is _years_ out of date," grinned Alby. "And I'm sure the Polian ambassador will be just as comfortable in the Vice Presidential Suite."

"Alby!"

He just shrugged and said: "Follow me, folks!" He started off despite a chorus of protests, and everyone else eventually followed perforce.

"One of these days he's going to get himself into so much trouble!" said Anny to Jer.

"No doubt. But in the meantime, let's enjoy ourselves. I hope they have nice big beds at this place."

"We'll soon find out. Look, there it is." They reached the hotel which, like most of the larger buildings, was clad in a light yellow stucco finish. The entry was set under a deep canopy held up by stout columns and all the numerous windows had colorful awnings. Anny had noticed that the locals, despite their adaptations, tended to stay in the shade if they could help it and built their structures to provide shade. A faint tingling around her lips made her wonder if she'd kissed away her sunblock. Burning kisses were fine as long as it wasn't literally burning her skin off! She reached into a pocket and brought out a small container of the sunblock and smeared some on her lips. She handed it to Jer and he smiled and did the same, even though they entered the shade under the canopy just a few seconds later.

There was a native by the main doors wearing what could almost be called a uniform. He smiled and bowed courteously, but he blocked their path and said: "Many pardons, but the hotel is completely booked. Unless you have reservations, I must plead with you to look elsewhere for accommodations."

"No problem," said Alby. "We have reservations."

"Ah. Good, good. Your name, sir?" The man produced a computer pad.

"Vorsworth."

After a quick look at his 'pad the man snapped to attention. "Admiral Vorsworth! Welcome to the Stiversville Arms!" A half-dozen other natives appeared, as if by magic, and the whole party was ushered into the lavish lobby. Moments later they were in lifts taking them upward.

"_Admiral_ Vorsworth?" whispered Anny, trying hard to suppress her grin.

Alby shrugged. "Gets their attention, doesn't it? And as long as I can pay, what are they going to care?"

"Good thing they can't read our uniform rank," said Patric.

"Well, I couldn't read that guy's rank either. He might have been a field marshal or something."

"Do they even have a military here?" asked Sven Estaban.

"A small one," replied Anny. "Enough to deal with pirates and raiders. They haven't got any significant resources here and with the UV problem, I guess they don't worry much about an invasion."

"Except from folks like us!"

The lifts stopped on the top floor which they discovered they had all to themselves. There was a huge central room with eight bedrooms off of it, a kitchen, numerous bathrooms and a large shaded roof garden with a small swimming pool. A dozen or more servants were waiting for them, but most were left with little to do as their guests had nothing but small overnight bags. Officers and med-techs quickly moved to explore the space.

"I like your friend, Anny," said Chris Tropio. "He's certainly got style!"

"Not to mention a touch of insanity," quipped Jer. "But this is paradise after a month aboard ship!"

Anny noted that a great deal of pairing off had already taken place and she looked uneasily at Tropio. "Uh, Chris, I've been made the Shenanigan Police by my boss and I… uh…" She gestured at the others. She knew it was hopeless, but she felt duty-bound to try.

Chris smirked. "Lieutenant Payne, we are all on leave and what my girls do on leave is no more my business—or your business—than what you and Jer are probably going to be doing in short order. Okay?"

"Uh, well, as long as they know what they're doing…"

"I assure you, they all know _exactly_ what they are doing! And they've all got their implants, so stop worrying, girl!"

Alby appeared, grinning ear to ear. "We've got almost two hours until dinner folks. So relax and enjoy yourselves." Somehow his grin grew even broader. "Anny, Jer, that bedroom is yours. Enjoy."

"You heard the Admiral," said Jer, taking her arm and pulling her toward the indicated room.

[Scene Break]

A little over an hour later they emerged, holding hands and smiling at each other. About half their party was lounging about or in the pool, but a number of the bedroom doors were still closed. Alby was on a lounge chair, sipping a drink and watching the people in the pool. They went over to him and sat down. "How are the beds?" he asked, smirking.

"_Very_ comfortable," said Jer, smirking right back at him.

"Glad to hear it. I might just…" he paused as faint chime came from the direction of the door. "Oh good!" he popped to his feet.

"Dinner?" asked Anny, looking around. "I don't know if everyone is… ready."

"Nope, I'm expecting a guest. Come on."

Puzzled, they followed him to the door. It opened to reveal a woman wearing a uniform—not a Barrayaran uniform. She also wore an amused smile. "_Admiral_ Vorsworth?" she said, her eyebrows arching up.

"Field promotion. You know the sort of casualties those cocktail parties rack up among the high command! But come in! Come in!" Alby ushered her inside. "Anny, Jer, this is Lieutenant Commander Izabella Cresswell-Jones. She's from Earth. Izabella, these are Lieutenants Payne and Naddel—special friends of mine."

"Pleased to meet you," said Cresswell-Jones, extending her hand. Anny shook it and so did Jer.

"How… how did you two meet?" asked Anny.

"Oh, a chance battlefield encounter during that desperately catered affair on the Cetagandan flagship. I told you about that, I think. Very nearly bought it, we did," said Alby.

"And when the 'admiral', here, told me he had reservations at an actual hotel," said Cresswell-Jones, "Well, that was an offer I couldn't refuse! But Good Lord! Look at this place! How on Earth did you swing this, Alby?"

"Natural talent, m'dear! But make yourself at home. Dinner should be in about an hour, but there are plenty of snacks about. Can I get you a drink?"

"Please." Alby took the woman off toward the bar. He walked very close to her.

"Well, what do you think of that?" asked Anny.

Jer shrugged. "We're on shore leave."

"But what about Abigail?"

"They're not engaged or anything, and," he shrugged again and grinned. "We're on shore leave."

"Ah, I see," she said a bit tartly. "And can I expect that same attitude from you if for some reason you find yourself on shore leave without me, Lieutenant?"

"Anny… You know I didn't mean that!"

"Yes, I know. And I guess you are right. And in any case, it's none of our business." Privately she found that she was a little disappointed with Alby, although she couldn't really say why. They wandered out and found seats by the pool. Several of the girls were in there with several of the men, apparently playing some game which involved a lot of splashing and laughing, but no other objective that Anny could discern. Alby and Cresswell-Jones joined them after a moment with their drinks.

They chatted a bit about shipboard life, the trip so far, the mission ahead, the planet Lengkeek and Stiversville. But Anny's eyes kept being drawn to Cresswell-Jones' uniform. It was a blue so dark that it almost looked black. Instead of the high, stiff collar of Barrayaran uniforms it had an open collar revealing the shirt and necktie that was underneath. The cuffs had three gold bands, two wide and a narrow one in between. The upper band had a single loop. _Lieutenant-commander, that would be about the equivalent of a major. She outranks all of us._

_She._

Anny couldn't get over the fact that she was looking at a woman in uniform and it wasn't her in a mirror. She waited for a break in the conversation—she had to be quick because Alby abhorred a silence the way nature abhorred a vacuum—and then said: "Commander Cresswell-Jones, I guess Earth's militaries have had women in them for a long time, haven't they?"

The woman looked surprised by the question. "Sure. Centuries. Longer than that, I guess, since before space travel. And please, call me Izabella; we're off-duty here, Anny. But why do you ask? Oh!" She looked at Alby.

"Barrayar has about a thousand years of catching up to do," he said with a grin.

"Wow… that's a little hard to get my head around. I mean men outnumber women in the services a bit, but not by all that much. You're really the only one in your army?"

"The only one in a combat role," said Anny. "We've got a few in support roles like medical," she nodded toward the women in the pool. "And more will be coming soon. There are over a hundred more women in our academy." She stared pointedly at Alby hoping he'd remember Abigail, but if he did he made no indication. "But there aren't any problems in your military, Izabella? Men and women just… ignore it?"

Cresswell-Jones laughed. "Well, I wouldn't say we _ignore_ it! But we get along. I mean we're all professionals with a job to do." She grew serious. "But from your question I guess things haven't gone that smoothly for you?"

"You might say that!" snorted Jer. "The Barrayarans tried to drive her out with every dirty trick in the book. But nothing worked. She showed them all!"

Cresswell-Jones eyed Jer closely and frowned. "You talk about the Barrayarans as if you're not one of them."

"I'm a loyal subject of the Empire. But I'm from Komarr."

"Ah, sort of like when I say I'm from Canada rather than Earth or the North American Union?"

"Something like that," said Jer.

"We Earthers have always been a provincial lot," chuckled Cresswell-Jones. "Guess we're not the only ones, eh?"

"Barrayar, itself, has only been unified for a little over a century," said Alby. "There are still folks who feel more loyalty to their district than the Imperium. And Komarr is… is…" he glanced at Jer.

"Komarr is still a work in progress."

They all looked up as Rad Benin came over to them. "May I join you?" he asked.

"Sure," said Alby. "Izabella, I told you about my roommate, didn't I? This is Ghem-Platoon-Chief Rad Benin. Rad, this is Lieutenant Commander Izabella Cresswell-Jones. Rad, don't stand there like you're on parade! Sit down! Have a drink! Unbutton your tunic! We're on leave!"

Benin perched rigidly on one of the chairs, looking anything but relaxed. Cresswell-Jones eyed at the man curiously. "So how is the experiment in interstellar diplomacy working out?" she asked. "There are countries on Earth that have just as much reason to hate each other as Barrayar and Cetaganda, but that was a lot longer ago."

"Working fine so far," said Alby. "Rad has no sense of humor whatsoever, but he's tidy and unlike Gilchrist, he doesn't hog the shower or snore at night."

Benin arched an eyebrow. "It has been most instructive so far. Lieutenant Vorsworth has exposed me to aspects of the Barrayaran military not to be found in our intelligence briefs."

Jer snorted. "I thought you said he didn't have a sense of humor, Alby!"

"First I've seen of one," replied Alby. "Must be the extra UV around here."

They laughed and the conversation became general again. As they talked, more of the missing people emerged from the bedrooms and either joined them or the people in the pool. As the light outside faded, dinner arrived and it was very good, although one dish was so spicy Anny's eyes started watering just from the smell of it. Most of the others gave it a pass although she noted that Rad Benin seemed to enjoy it.

There was abundant alcohol present, of course, and things got quite merry. The suite had an excellent sound system and as the evening wore on there was dancing and singing. Anny danced mostly with Jer, but there was a fair amount of partner swapping and it was really a great deal of fun. And quite a contrast with the oh-so-proper regimental mess back at Fort Vorolson!

During a break between dances Anny and Jer wandered out to a small balcony that had a clear view of the sky. Lengkeek was nearly 4,000 light years from Barrayar in a straight line and the constellations were very different. A luminous nebula filled a quarter of the northern sky. It was amazingly beautiful. She snuggled closer to Jer. "I love you," she said.

"And I love you." He was silent for a moment and then he asked: "Are you happy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Being back with the regiment, being back with you. Yes, I'm happy."

"Good. But it's late and it's been a long day and I want to try out that amazing bed again."

"Sounds like an excellent idea."

They drifted back into the main room and saw that many of the others had already anticipated them. The music was now low and only a few people still lingered. They went into their room and locked the door.

[Scene Break]

The beeping of her wristcom slowly brought Anny back to consciousness. "Damn," she muttered, fumbling to find the device. She cursed again when she saw that only a dim light was seeping in the windows. It wasn't even dawn yet? "Payne, here," she growled when she found her 'com.

"Lieutenant? Sergeant Kay. Are you… um, available?"

"For what? What's the matter, Sergeant?"

She could hear the embarrassment in her platoon sergeant's voice. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but a couple of the boys have gotten themselves into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" asked Anny, coming slightly more awake.

"Oh, nothin' too serious, sir. A bar fight. Some bruises, some damage to the place. The locals have them in lock-up and they won't let them go until we pay the fines and the damages. I'm not authorized to do that."

"Just fines? Nobody killed or anything?"

"No sir. Not by any of our lads, anyway. But it wasn't just our platoon last night! Looks like half a regiment under arrest down here. The locals seem a tad put out. Can you come down and bail our people out, sir?"

Anny sighed. The high command had anticipated the situation and all the officers had been issued credit chits for just this purpose.

"Sir?"

"All right, all right. I'll be down. Where are you? The city police HQ?" She wasn't sure where that was, but she assumed she could find it.

"No. sir, they couldn't handle the mob. We're at the city sports arena. You can home in on my com."

"Right. Are our people being treated properly?"

"Oh, yes, sir. They've chalked out holding pens on the grass and they're just sitting there waiting. Some of the locals have shown up to sell refreshments. 'Course most of our guys are still sleeping it off."

"Good. Then they can wait for a bit. I'll be down in an hour… or two."

"Right. Thank you, sir." Kay clicked off. Anny rolled over and went back to sleep.

Slightly more than two hours later Anny, washed, fed, and reasonably awake approached the Stiversville sports area. Jer and several of the other officers were with her—they had men to bail out, too.

"Good Lord! Look at this mob!" exclaimed Sven Estaban. "We'll be lucky to get out of here in time to catch our shuttle back to the ship!"

Anny was afraid that he was right, but they found that a system had been set up that was both quick and efficient. She just told one of the native officials what unit she was with and in a surprisingly short time five men from her platoon, escorted by a police officer and Sergeant Kay, were produced—along with a list of fines and penalties to be paid. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Private Kerbeck was one of the ne'er-do-wells.

"Wasn't our fault, sir!" cried Kerbeck the instant he caught sight of her. "There was a batch of… of… Cetagandans! Yeah! Cetagandans jumped us and we had to defend ourselves!"

Anny shook her head. "Private, the Cetagandans had their shore leave already. They're all gone."

"Musta been some deserters then!"

"Kerbeck, shut up!" snapped Kay. "Stubinski, why do you still have that thing?" Anny did a double-take. Private Stubinski was leading a small goat-like creature on a rope. It had blue fur and large liquid green eyes.

"Can't just turn her loose, Sarge!" protested the private.

"Where did you get that?" demanded Anny.

"Uh… not quite sure, sir. She was with me when I woke up this morning. Gonna call her 'Lulubelle."

"You can't take it back aboard ship, Private," said Anny. The man's face fell and Anny felt guilty. The thing really was cute. "Sorry, but it's regulations. And I'm sure she'll be happier here." She looked at the police officer. "Any mention of a missing… animal on your list?"

"Nope, not yet. But it's being updated hourly." The man shook his head. "I thought the Cetagandans were something, but oh! You Barrayarans!"

"We'll take that as a compliment. We all done here? Are my men free to go?"

The man checked his computer and nodded. "The payment went through, so yes. You can go."

"Any restrictions on where these men can go? Do they have to leave the planet?"

"No, since there were no serious injuries and as long as you folks can pay for the damages, they're free to stay."

"This is quite a racket you've got here. Isn't it?" The man just smiled and turned to the next officer in the line. Anny took her troopers aside and frowned at them. They looked back at her guiltily. "I ought to send you back to the ship," she said. "But… you've got another twelve hours of shore leave. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" They saluted and moved off immediately before she could change her mind.

"And, Stubinski: find someone to give Lulubelle to!" she called after them.

"Thanks, sir," said Kay. "I think they got the worst out of their system last night. They should be all right for the rest of the day."

She let Kay go and then found Jer, who was bailing out a few men from his own platoon. Anny noticed a batch of local police bringing in a new load of troopers. Yeah, they had quite a racket going here.

They spent the rest of the day touring the city. Just walking and talking and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. "A month until we see each other again," she sighed.

"Forty-two days, actually," said Jer.

"Counting the days?"

"Always."

They had dinner, took in a show with live performers and then reluctantly headed back to the shuttleport. They met up with Chris Tropio and her girls there. Everyone claimed to have had a fine time. They had to wait almost an hour but they spent the time together so they didn't mind. Eventually, Anny's shuttle landed and she kissed Jer good-bye and got aboard with the girls and a crowd of troopers from her battalion. They were in good spirits and had an amazing assortment of souvenirs. Many seemed to have replaced parts of their uniforms with native garb. _The next inspection ought to be interesting…_

Ensign Vorgard plopped into a seat next to her. "Hi Anny, have a good leave?"

"Oh yes. You?"

"Great! Really great! But boy, I think the locals got more than they bargained for!" He nodded toward the happy troopers.

"Yes, I think they'll remember us on Lengkeek for a long time."


	18. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The gleaming battle axe streaked toward Anny's head. She twisted aside, but not quickly enough. The deadly blade missed her head, but sliced through part of her shoulder, the monomolecular edge cutting the armor like it was paper. She felt a faint pain and her display flashed with red warning lights. Then her whole left arm went numb. But she didn't even pause to evaluate the damage. Her opponent was off balance with his blow and she had her chance. Pivoting on her right foot, she drove her left into the enemy's chest, slamming him to the ground. Following through, and spinning in a virtual pirouette, she landed atop the arm holding the battle axe, pinning it down. Her own weapon, the massive hammer with the spiked end, flashed down and smashed through the enemy's helmet with a spray of sparks and a sickening crunch.

She wrenched it free, trying not to see the ruin it had probably made of her opponent's head. Only then did she notice that the left arm of her armor—and quite probably her own left arm was lying on the ground a few paces from her fallen foe.

"Well done!"

"Nice move!

"Bravo!"

A chorus of voices came over her com channel and then the scene of combat faded away and she found herself standing on the deck of the training room aboard the attack transport _Stalwart_. Dozens of people in battle armor and a number in regular uniforms were watching her—battalion officers and senior NCOs for the most part. She did a quick look to confirm that her arm was back where it belonged.

Standing opposite her was Lieutenant Dahlberg of 1st Platoon, the man she had just 'killed'. His helmet visor swung open and he grinned at her and shook his head. "Nicely done, Anny," he said. "I really thought I had you there. Hell, I _did_ have some of you!"

"Some but not all," she said grinning back at him."You fought very well, Lieutenant."

"At this rate you'll only have to die four more times to get the rest of her, Georg," said Ensign Vorgard. A lot of people laughed and even Dahlberg chuckled.

"And let that be a lesson to all of us," said Major Vorglanov, the battalion commander. "The neural interface of the armor can allow the wearer to ignore wounds that would normally be crippling. Dahlberg thought he'd won so he got careless. Payne took advantage of that to turn the tables on him. When you take down an opponent, make sure he's _really_ down!"

"Yes sir," said Dahlberg and everyone else nodded. The armor really did allow extraordinary things to happen. The pain and shock effects from almost any wound could be negated and the suit's occupant could keep going as long as the suit was functional—or until he ran out of limbs. Only a head shot could guarantee a quick kill.

"All right, next pair," said Vorglanov. Two more of the men in armor faced off and Anny returned to the ranks of watchers.

A tiny light in the corner of her vision told her when the simulation began. To all appearances, two suits of battle armor began to circle each other, weapons at the ready. In reality, Anny knew that they were still just standing there, motionless. The Mark XI battle armor had had some new improvements made even since she'd used one during her apprentice cruise the previous year. The neural interface could now hook into a central simulation computer, turning each suit into a simulator pod like the ones she had used at the Academy—and like the ones Alby had been working so hard on back at Fort Vorolson. It was a huge bonus. Now the entire battalion—the entire regiment when the ships were close enough—could run totally realistic exercises together. The spectators who were not in armor could watch the proceedings with special video goggles. There wasn't even a real reason why any of them had to be in the exercise room. They could have just left the suits in their storage racks and done this from there. But somehow, people felt like they needed to actually move around a bit.

Speaking of which… She twisted slightly and managed to withdraw her right arm from its metal sleeve. She scratched her itching nose and sighed in relief. That was one thing you couldn't do in the old model armor! In fact, with the neural interface controlling movement of the suits, there was no reason why your arms or legs even needed to be inside the armor's appendages. But they were still built that way. She'd heard some rumors that the Mark XII armor was going to have the pilot curled in a ball inside a heavily armored cocoon and not even bother with the arms or legs anymore. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

The dueling pair, as often happened, pounded each other to simulated junk before one of them was finally ruled out of action. The matches continued until everyone had had a chance. Anny watched Patric Mederov's bout with interest. Patric was a very big and strong man, but his real strength didn't matter at all while in armor. Unfortunately, he was a bit clumsy, too. Anny had been giving him some private pointers about using the personal weapons in close combat and it looked as though he was improving. One other new feature of the armor was that it could overlay a real-time image of the person's face, making it look like their visor was open even though it wasn't. It made things a lot more convenient when talking with people. Or in situations like this: she could watch Patric's face and get an idea of his mental state while he was fighting. Of course, the enlistedmen hated the new feature—they couldn't make faces at their sergeants anymore. Patric didn't win his match, but he did pretty well and he looked satisfied. Good.

When they finished up the matches, Major Vorglanov addressed them. "Okay, we are going to do one more exercise before we wrap things up for the morning. If you've been studying the briefings on Novo Paveo—and I hope you have!—you know that the planet is mostly covered with shallow oceans. There are thousands of islands and a couple of small continents. It is quite probable that we will see action on those islands or in coastal regions. We need to be prepared for combat underwater as well as on land." He paused to let that sink in. Battle armor was quite capable of functioning underwater and at considerable depth. But it wasn't something that they practiced often—or ever as far as Anny knew.

"Underwater combat is a lot different than what we are used to," continued Vorglanov. "Our most common weapon, the plasma arc, won't work at all. If you try, all you'll succeed in doing is boiling the water in your immediate vicinity—quite possibly with damaging effects to yourself. Lasers and mass-drivers will function to a certain extent, but with drastically reduced ranges and effectiveness. Normal missiles will be nearly useless, but we'll have some modified ones available that will work pretty well—miniature torpedoes for all practical purposes. Those will be our primary long-range weapons. Hand-to-hand combat will be affected, too. The water will slow us down and make impact weapons a lot less useful. So, we shall have to adapt. We'll be running the whole battalion through some exercises in the coming weeks, but I wanted to let you folks try it out first." He ran his eyes over them and most everyone nodded. Yeah, it was always a good idea for the officers and NCOs to at least appear to know what they were doing. "For this session I just want you to get used to moving around underwater. All right, let's get to it."

The small simulator light flashed on again and Anny found herself immersed in dark, murky water. A faint glimmer of sunlight came from above, dimly illuminating her surroundings. She was standing on a rocky outcrop of some sort and a few plants waved in the current. She could dimly make other figures in armor around her. She rapidly moved through different sensor settings to try and improve the view. None of them were terribly good, but she found one that wasn't too bad and her vision extended out a hundred meters or so. Her non-visual readings were better, but still much degraded compared to the open air.

She tried moving around and it was weird. The water resisted her movements and she stumbled and fell almost immediately, but again, the water slowed her fall in an odd way. She'd never done much swimming and this seemed very unnatural. More unexpected results occurred when she started playing with her anti-grav unit. On land, negating part of the gravitational pull allowed her to leap long distances, but it seemed that even 250 kilos of metal and ceramics could have significant buoyancy when the gravity was negated. She shot toward the surface like a cork before she could reduce the nullification and settle back toward the bottom. Several exclamations over the com circuits indicated that she wasn't the only one to be taken by surprise.

The maneuvering thrusters she would use in zero-G still worked, but she found she had to learn how to fly her suit all over again. In space the trick was not to over-use the thrusters. Usually just a gentle nudge was all that was needed. But here, a gently nudge might move you a meter or two, before the water stopped you dead. You needed a constant thrust to keep moving. She got the hang of it after a while and was eventually able to pilot her suit like some miniature submarine, but her speed was very limited and she had to watch what she was doing carefully to maintain a steady course.

After an hour or so she felt confident that she could at least get from place to place underwater. Fighting… well, that was another story. But Vorglanov terminated the session and told them that was enough to absorb for one day. They'd get more practice later. "And I've been promised that we'll be getting some software upgrades that will help with maneuvering underwater," he added. "God knows when—or if—we'll get them."

Anny and the others walked their suits back down to the storage areas and parked them in their racks. Sven Estaban fell in beside her as she made her way back toward her quarters. "Wow, I'm not sure I liked that! Made me feel like a newbie in a suit again!"

"Yeah. Let's hope we can do our fighting on dry land when we get there," agreed Anny.

"If there is any dry land. You read the briefing on the tides they have there?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Should make things interesting." Novo Paveo had a very large moon, almost a companion planet. The pair had not become tidally locked yet, although that would happen in another million years or so, but at the moment, the moon caused enormous tides in Novo Paveo's oceans. Some of the smaller islands appeared and disappeared on a regular basis, and the coastlines on the larger land masses could advance or retreat many kilometers as the seas rushed in or fell back. Barrayar's two moons were too small to produce significant tides so this was something new.

She and Estaban went their separate ways. She went to her quarters to strip out of the undersuit she wore with her armor and take a shower. Then it was down to the mess hall for lunch. She bumped into Patric there and immediately noticed that the big farm boy was upset about something. He was almost always in good spirits so the change was striking. She didn't think the problem was the morning combat exercise…

"How are you doing, Patric?"

"Fine."

"Uh… good. What did you think of that exercise this morning?"

"S'okay."

"Working underwater is going to be quite a challenge, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

Patric was usually quiet, but this was especially monosyllabic even for him. Anny watched him for a while as they ate. Or as she ate—he was just pushing his food around on the plate—and _that_ was really unusual. Finally she leaned forward and whispered: "Patric, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that bull! Something's wrong! You didn't get some bad news about your father's health, did you?" A fast courier had just caught up with the fleet that day and delivered the mail.

"What? No, no, nothing like that." Patric was clearly surprised by the suggestion.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing… oh hell, it's Lyra."

_Aha!_ Lyra Gunderson, one of the medtechs. She and Patric had been carrying on rather obviously before and during the time on Lengkeek.

_Before, during… but not after?_ Come to think of it she hadn't even seen them passing in the same compartment since Lengkeek. "What's wrong with Lyra?"

"That's what I want to know!" exclaimed Patric, his frustration obvious. "I thought…. I thought we had something going. And now she acts like she doesn't even know me!"

"Did something happen on Lengkeek?"

"No! Well, something did happen, but it sure seemed like it was a good something! Everything seemed fine until we got back here!"

"We're back on duty now, Patric. You can't expect her to act like we're still on shore leave."

"I know that! But she can at least answer when a guy says hello in the mess hall!"

Anny frowned. "Patric, the girls are all under a microscope just like I was back at the Academy. They can't even appear to be carrying on. And I know what happened during the shore leave, but I also know that some of the higher-ups weren't too happy about it. Something may have come down that we don't know about."

"It's not like the women medtechs are anything new—like you are—they've been around for a while!"

"But they've never been deployed off-planet like this before. That's new and maybe adapting to it isn't routine. Give things a chance to settle down."

Patric looked slightly mollified. "Yeah, I guess…"

"And I'll ask Chris if she knows anything. She's been kind of quiet lately, too."

"Okay, I'd appreciate that. Thanks, Anny."

"You really like Lyra, huh?"

"Yeah… Oh, hell, look at the time! Gotta run!"

"Yeah, me, too. See you later." She got up and headed for her platoon's barracks compartment. There was an inspection scheduled today and Captain Vorstang said it was going to be an especially thorough one. The men had managed to smuggle an incredible amount of… _stuff_ aboard from Lengkeek and even now, three weeks later, men were turning up drunk or stoned on duty. Word had come down that it had to stop. Anny wasn't sure how much good the inspection would do. In spite of all that they could do to keep them busy, the men were getting bored and when men got bored…

She met Sergeant Kay in the Ready Room. The real inspection wasn't for another hour, but most platoon commanders and sergeants did a pre-inspection inspection to keep embarrassing discoveries to a minimum. Some officers left that to the top sergeants, but Anny always tried to be there. "Okay?" she asked Kay.

"Yes, sir. Anytime you're ready."

"Good, let's go." They walked down to the barracks compartment. Someone shouted attention, but she put everyone at ease. Then she and Kay walked up and down the rows of bunks and checked the rows of lockers. They didn't find any contraband and she hadn't expected to. The barracks were so compact there just wasn't room to hide much of anything. No, she strongly suspected that the real hiding places were aboard the assault shuttles or in the hanger bays. The troopers couldn't have accomplished their smuggling without help from the shuttle crews—and there were a whole lot more hiding places on the shuttles. Unfortunately, the shuttles belonged to the Navy and she had no authority to inspect them. Oh well, they'd use up the stuff eventually—except they were scheduled for another shore leave in less than two weeks.

While she was looking at the contents of one of the lockers she heard a faint clicking noise behind her and something nudged her leg just behind her knee. She turned and looked down into a pair of wide green eyes. "Well hello, Lulubelle,' she said. "How are you today?"

The little creature—which they'd learned was called a _vella_ on Lengkeek—made a small meeping noise reminiscent of a terrestrial cat. Private Stubinski steadfastly denied smuggling Lulubelle aboard, but somehow she'd been there after the first wormhole jump and it was far too late to do anything about it. The ship's surgeon had run some tests and declared the _vella_ free of any dangerous parasites or pathogens and since it was almost odor free and had even learned to use the litter boxes used by the ship's cats, Captain Vorstang had bowed to the inevitable and Lulubelle was now the company mascot. The surgeon had privately told Anny that with the sort of diet she was getting aboard ship he doubted the creature would live long, but for the moment she seemed healthy enough.

Lulubelle meeped once more and then trotted away, her tiny hooves clicking on the deck. _If we can't keep the men from smuggling aboard a goat, how can we keep them from smuggling even smaller things?_

"Almost time, sir," said Kay, indicating the hour.

"Right. Okay, fall them in for inspection, Sergeant."

[Scene Break]

Ivan was sorting through the mound of incoming messages for the Ambassador and mused how very like his previous job this was. Sorting snakes for ambassadors was little different from sorting snakes for generals and admirals. The snakes themselves were a bit different, but he could still classify them the same way. _Garden variety… garden variety… dead… Whoops, there's a venomous one, agitated at that! Garden variety… quiescent…_

A fast courier had brought a huge number of messages for the diplomatic contingent—along with even larger numbers for everyone else. Going through them was drudgery, but it was familiar drudgery and at least it only happened every few weeks. With any luck he could have this sorted through in time for lunch with Tej.

His door buzzer buzzed and he frowned. He could make lunch with Tej if he wasn't _interrupted_…

"Enter," he sighed. The door slid aside and he immediately came to alert. There was his boss, Ambassador Vorpinski, and with him was Colonel Fetherbay, commander of the 61st Infantry. Both men's faces looked… grim. Ivan got to his feet.

"Good morning, sir, Colonel. What… what can I do for you?"

"Morning, Ivan," replied Vorpinski. "Still sorting the mail?"He gestured toward Ivan's comconsole.

"Yes sir."

"I imagine there's quite a pile as usual, so you probably haven't seen this yet." He handed him a small comp pad. Ivan scanned down it and stopped.

"Damn. What a shame."

"Yes," agreed Vorpinski. "Colonel Fetherbay has a rather sad duty to perform and considering your personal connections, I was wondering if you'd be willing to help him out?"

Ivan swallowed. He could think of a hundred other unpleasant things he'd much rather do, but there was no way he could refuse this. "Of course, sir," he said.

[Scene Break]

Alby was working for Captain Hopkins, the regimental intelligence officer, this week. The Colonel had been rotating Alby around to the various staff positions since they'd left Barrayar to see where he best fit in. He found that he liked the intelligence work. Operations had more prestige, as did Planning, but intelligence appealed to his naturally analytical mind. Hopkins had already complimented him a couple of times about his ability to cut through the inevitable BS in the reports and grab the few nuggets of actual information in them. It was really kind of fun.

But right now there was a mound of BS he had to wade through. A fast courier had rendezvoused with the fleet and delivered a few terabytes of new intelligence reports from Barrayar. Only a fraction of that was considered suitable for the eyes of mere regimental officers, but it still made quite a pile. He'd probably be at this for the next couple of days…

"Hey, Alby!" He looked up as Hopkins poked his head into his cubicle.

"Sir?"

"Report to the Colonel."

His eyebrows shot up. "Why? What'd I do now?"

"No idea. Just go."

Puzzled, Alby got to his feet and went down the corridor to Fetherbay's office. He didn't have any recent crimes on his conscience, so he hoped that this would be something trivial. The Colonel's aide waved him right through.

Alby rocked to a halt. Fetherbay was on his feet and with him was Ivan Vorpatril. Both men looked grim…

"My father is dead, isn't he?" said Alby's mouth. The words had gone directly from his back-brain to his vocal cords without any intermediate processing, but he knew it was true. The expressions on Fetherbay's and Vorpatril's faces confirmed it before they could even nod.

"Yes, Lieutenant," said Fetherbay. "I'm deeply sorry."

"Is my mother okay?"

"She's… well," said Vorpatril. He held out a comp pad. "Here is the official notification and several personal messages. Let me offer my own condolences, Lieutenant. Your father was a fine officer. This is a loss to the whole Empire."

Alby's chest felt like it was in a vice. His whole body was tingling like he'd just taken a dose of Dynatrim. He reached out a shaking hand and took the compad. "Thank you, sir."

"Lieutenant, take the rest of the day off," said Fetherbay. "I have authorization to detach you. You can go back to Barrayar on the fast courier if that's what you want."

Alby twitched. Go back to Barrayar? Go home? A hundred thoughts had been swirling through his head, but that hadn't been one of them. "I…I…"

"The courier isn't leaving until tomorrow. You've got some time to think about it."

"All… all right. Thank you, sir." He turned and left the office. He headed back toward his own cubicle, but somehow Hopkins had been informed of the situation in the few moments he'd been away and he just offered his condolences and sent Alby to his quarters.

Rad wasn't there, thankfully, so he slumped down on his bunk and read through the messages on the compad. There were three official notifications of his father's death. One from Count Vorgannon's residence, one from the Veteran's Affairs Office, and one from his father's lawyer. There were two letters from his sister; a brief one with the news itself and another follow-up assuring him that she was with their mother and she would look after things. The funeral would be in a week from the time she wrote the letter, so it was long past by now. She wanted to know if he would be returning home.

_Will I?_

He could. Fetherbay said that he could. But would he? What was the point? The funeral was already over and whatever emotional mess his mother might be going through would mostly be over by the time he could get back, too. And what could he do anyway? The image of him trying to give her any comfort seemed ludicrous. They'd never been close. His sister could do a much better job. Or was he just making excuses for not going? He had a growing sense of guilt over the fact that he didn't feel worse about this. He supposed he ought to cry or something, but no tears came. He'd never felt much love toward either of his parents. They'd been so distant. And when he found out the real circumstances behind his birth, he'd been angry with them for a long time. He'd nearly just walked away from them at one point only a few years ago. Things had improved since then, but still…

There was another message from the lawyer also inquiring when and if he'd be coming home. There was the matter of his father's will and the estate. While the details could not be revealed until the formal reading, the essence of it was that pretty much everything was being left to Alby, with codicils concerning the support of his mother and other sums being left to his sister and her children. The sums involved were… substantial.

Money had never meant a great deal to Alby, but it seemed that he was now ridiculously wealthy. _I could have rented the whole damn hotel on Lengkeek…_

Clearly he had a set of new responsibilities. But go home? Did he really want to do that? Should he go even if he didn't want to?

He put the 'pad aside and left his quarters. Exploring the flagship, he'd found a small observation blister in an out of the way location. He wasn't sure what its real purpose was, but he sometimes went there for some solitude and he went there now. He closed the hatch behind him and sat down on an old cushion he'd purloined and stared at the stars.

His father was dead. His grandfather was dead. He was the eldest male member of this branch of the Vorsworth clan. There were other Vorsworths, but they were all very distant relations. That huge house and the land around it belonged to him now. The servants worked for him now. He suddenly felt very alone. Adrift, like those stars out there.

He tried to imagine what his mother was feeling right now, but the only image that came to mind was her at her favorite dressmaker fussing over mourning garb. Not fair, not fair, she did love him, he knew that.

_So what are you going to do, kiddo? Go or stay?_

He tried to think about what he'd do if he did go home. Hold his mother's hand? For how long? He could get an extended leave, but unless he actually resigned his commission, eventually he'd have to return to duty. But where? The 61st would be halfway across the Nexus. Could he get back or would they assign him to another unit? Too many unknowns.

He had a duty to his family but… _I've got a family here now, too._

Anny and Jer and Patric, they were family. And they were heading into danger. There was nothing he could do to help his family on Barrayar. But his family here… he could still help them.

He slowly nodded his head.

He still had a job to do and he would do it.

He had a batch of messages to write, but he was staying right here.


	19. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Good-bye, Anny," said Jer Naddel. "I guess we won't see each other again until Novo Paveo."

His lover's beautiful face was all scrunched up and she unsuccessfully tried to blink back the tears. She moved close and pressed herself against his chest, her strong arms wrapping around his back. "Please be careful, Jer," she whispered. "Please."

They were standing in the main spaceport of a planet called Lunda Sul. It was the last day of their last shore leave before they reached their destination—Novo Paveo.

He stroked her hair and tried to laugh. "You're telling _me_ to be careful?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'll be every bit as careful as I know you'll be, girl."

"That's not much comfort."

"No, it's not, is it? But I'll try not to earn any medals if you don't either, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. But you know that like as not, we'll get there, growl menacingly at the Enbees, they'll knuckle under and in a few months we'll be on our way home without firing or hearing a shot."

"I hope you're right." She snuggled closer. "Half the people with us are itching to see combat, but I'm not. More and more I'm dreading it, Jer."

"Bad dreams about Dounby?" She'd been very restless in bed last night. He knew that she had nightmares about the people she'd lost on her apprentice cruise.

"A few," she admitted. "And it worries me. In combat you can't hold anything back, you have to be totally committed or you could lose more lives—lose the battle. You can't hesitate for fear of taking casualties."

"Yeah. Well, you didn't hesitate on Dounby and you won't hesitate this time, either. You'll do fine."

"I hope. It's just… _damn_ I wish we were in the same battalion!"

"Want to keep an eye on me?" Jer smiled.

"Damn right! The way they deploy assault troops, we could be halfway around the planet from each other!"

"Well, that would still be true even if we were in the same company. They do tend to spread us out."

"I suppose. But I hope we at least get a chance to see each other once we're there."

"Yeah, me, too… Hell, looks like we're getting ready to board." A new batch of shuttles had just touched down and people were moving toward them. This was it. They kissed again and then drew apart. "I love you." he mouthed.

"And I love you," she whispered back.

"See you when we get there. That's a promise."

She nodded and moved away, but kept looking at him. He did the same until he bumped into someone and then had to reluctantly watch where he was going instead of her. He glanced in her direction a few more times, but she had disappeared into the crowd. _When will we see each other again?_ It was a numbing feeling; they might _never_ see each other again. Somehow the thought had never really come to him the other times they'd been separated. Not like this, anyway. He didn't believe in premonitions, but still…

He joined the queue and eventually got onto a shuttle. He spotted Sergeant Shusterman, his platoon sergeant, and edged over next to him. "Hi Sarge. How'd things go? I didn't get any calls to bail the boys out this time. Guess you kept them out of trouble?"

Shusterman shook his head and cursed. "No sir. No trouble for anyone to get _into_ on this bloody planet. Who in hell picked this… this _monastery_ for shore leave?"

"No idea," admitted Jer. "It does seem pretty straight-laced, doesn't it?"

"You could say so! No booze, no women, the boys aren't in too good of a mood, sir."

Jer had noticed the apparent lack of bars and fleshpots in the parts of town he'd frequented with Anny, but the absence of liquor didn't bother him much and he only had eyes for one special woman anyway. But he hadn't realized that the whole city was like that. "Oh dear… wasn't there anything for the men to do?"

"Oh, the Holy Joes who run the place had all sorts of 'activities' lined up for us, sir. Games and concerts and prayer meetings. The boys were… thrilled." The Sergeant shook his head again but then added: "Some of the music _was_ pretty nice."

"But no women, you say?"

"Not a frill to be seen, sir. And the other women all wear veils and long robes and won't associate with 'barbarians'. 'Course there were some women from the other contingents and our medical companies, but they were a tad outnumbered."

"Right. Well, we're going to have to keep our eyes open to keep the men out of Ladies' Country back on the ship," said Jer. His battalion, like Anny's, had a medical company attached. But this one only had five women medtechs and they were a lot less outgoing than Chris Tropio and her girls.

"Damn straight, sir. The boys'll be trying to cut through the bulkheads before we get to Novo Paveo."

"Wonder what sort of 'facilities' are going to be available once we get there? Can't have the men molesting the local women."

"_That_ could be a problem, sir, if somebody didn't think ahead."

Jer frowned as they took their seats on the shuttle. On his apprentice cruise, the shore leaves had been frequent enough to keep the men's urges under control. But once they were in combat… He wasn't sure what was going to happen.

He filed that away with all his other problems as the shuttle boosted toward orbit.

[Scene Break]

"So explain to me again exactly who this woman is?" demanded Tej.

Ivan sighed. "Admiral Ellie Quinn, commander of the Dendarii Free Mercenaries. She's an old… friend of Miles'." He turned his head to look out the shuttle viewport in hopes that his wife would stop acting jealous.

"It sounded like she was an old friend of _yours_, when she saw you on the Cetagandan flagship," persisted Tej.

"_They_ were lovers, Tej. Her and Miles. I've only met her a few times."

"Really?" said Tej in obvious surprise. "She's very beautiful."

"Miles seems to attract beautiful amazons. Terrifying ones. Believe me, love, she's not my type at all."

"So I'm not a beautiful, terrifying amazon?"

"Beautiful, incredibly, delectably beautiful, but I stopped being terrified of you a couple of years ago. Your family, on the other hand…" Tej finally smiled and punched him in the arm. "And Quinn's looks are all biosculpt, dear. She got her face burned off by a plasma arc during one of Miles' little adventures and he bought her a new one."

"Ick. So she really is a combat officer?"

"Yeah, and a damn good one, too. She was Miles' second in command for years and then took over when he was forced to retire."

"So what are she and her mercenaries doing here? And why are we having dinner with her on her ship?"

Ivan hesitated. His current 'mission' was classified, and he wasn't sure how much he ought to reveal to Tej. Still, Ambassador Vorpinski had been using Tej's language skills so much during the trip that she was virtually part of his staff. And with her Jacksonian upbringing, she was very familiar with the concept of security. He could trust her to keep her mouth shut. "The Dendarii are here because the Polians hired them to flesh out their part of the expedition. I guess they didn't want to get their own forces all dirty and rumpled. There are a couple of other mercenary outfits with the fleet, too, for that matter. But as for why we're meeting with Quinn… For about ten years Miles was their commander, but he was acting under deep cover for ImpSec."

"Ah ha…" said Tej.

"Yeah. The Dendarii pretended to be a free company, but they were really working for ImpSec. It's all too complicated to go into here, but that's how it was. The Dendarii were Simon Illyan's secret army in the Nexus. Most of the stuff they pulled off I still don't know about, but if you do a data search on them you can find out about some of their more notorious… er, famous exploits."

"But your cousin is retired, you said. Do they still work for ImpSec?"

"Apparently so. After Quinn took over, ImpSec used them very sparingly for a while. Miles' cover was already in tatters and a lot of folks were getting suspicious of the Dendarii. I gather that Quinn has managed to convince people that with Miles' departure the Dendarii have no connection with Barrayar anymore. But I'm informed that the connection is still there."

"So why are meeting with her? Won't that just tend to make people suspicious again?"

"You'd think so," said Ivan shrugging. "But in the convoluted and contorted minds of the intelligence people, they are counting on the opposition figuring that this contact is so obvious and so clumsy that it can't actually be what it is. So they'll just assume that it is no more than it seems: a social meeting between old friends."

"Hmmph!" snorted Tej. "I can't imagine this fooling anyone!"

"Probably not," agreed Ivan. "But I can't see that it really matters. This is all pretty routine stuff. No great secrets being passed along. We have dinner, chat, Quinn gives me a data chip and we go back to the flagship. Simple."

"Why not just tight-beam it?"

"Could be intercepted. And even in code, someone could tell by the size of the message that it was more than just a hello."

"But…"

"Look, Tej, this wasn't my idea! We were ordered to go, so we're going, okay?"

"All right, all right. Let's get it over with."

The conversation died and Ivan was not willing to try resuscitation. He couldn't believe that Tej was actually jealous of Quinn! Good God, the woman had shown nothing but contempt for him the few times she ever deigned to show anything at all. He was quite certain that Quinn's friendly banter on the Cetagandan flagship was nothing more than an attempt by her to make Tej jealous and give him a hard time. _Well go right ahead and try! I've got the girl of my dreams and look at you: your true love is married to someone else and has four kids! _He looked out the viewport and watched as Quinn's flagship, the _Peregrine_, grew larger and larger. He put aside his irritation and settled a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

Dinner was entirely unremarkable.

The food was okay, although not up to the standards of Ambassador Vorpinski's table. The service was adequate, but militarily utilitarian rather than stylish. And the conversation…

Quinn had included her flag captain and the liaison officer from the Polians as dinner guests, so there were no secrets being talked about! Or not really. Quinn made no attempt to hide her past connection with Miles and even reminisced about some of their missions together. She asked a lot of questions about Miles' job as Imperial Auditor and about his wife and children. Ivan actually found himself pulling out his computer pad and calling up pictures of the kids—something he wouldn't have been caught dead doing not so long ago.

And Quinn didn't ignore Tej, either. She asked endless questions about her life on Jackson's Whole and the incredibly complicated political situation there. To Ivan's amazement Quinn mentioned several of the Dendarii's missions on Jackson's Whole—several of which Miles had never mentioned to Ivan. And to his horror she even talked about the disastrous attempt by Miles' clone brother, Mark, to steal away a batch of fellow clones who were destined to be killed in the notorious brain-transplant industry that existed on the Whole.

"It is a rather ugly business," conceded Tej. "My house has never had anything to do with it."

"Well, I suppose I'm in no position to condemn anyone," said Quinn, with a shrug. "After all, I kill people for money, too. But Mark managed to get Miles killed with his stupid stunt and I can't quite forgive him for that. We might be mercenaries, but we watch out for our own." She paused and looked down at her plate for a moment. "And Miles wasn't the only one killed that day. There were others, and we didn't get them all back."

"That's very interesting, Admiral," said the Polian officer. The man had said very little so far. "Naturally, we have a full dossier on the Dendarii's missions—including those you did working for ImpSec—but I don't recall this one being in it."

"That's because officially it never happened—even from ImpSec's point of view."

"I was only a child when Baron Ryoval was killed," said Tej. "I never heard the full story before."

"I'm not sure anyone even knows the full story. Miles and Mark both kept things back. And I'm sure Elena knew something she never told me, too." She glanced at Ivan. Elena Bothari-Jesek had been a childhood playmate of his.

"I would imagine that Simon Illyan found it all out eventually," said the Polian. "His reputation for thoroughness is formidable. How did you find working for him, Admiral?"

"Stimulating," said Quinn with a twisted smile. Ivan snorted and Quinn's flag captain shook his head. "Some of our most… fascinating missions came from him, but frankly I'm glad to be done with him."

"Of course Illyan doesn't run ImpSec anymore," said the Polian.

"True. But Tej, I'm dying to hear how your father managed to hoodwink the old spook. I've read the news stories, of course, but I imagine there is a lot more to it than that!"

Reluctantly, Tej told the story of the notorious treasure hunt on Barrayar that led to the restoration of her father as a baron on Jackson's Whole, to her staying married to Ivan and, incidentally, to the sinking of the ImpSec headquarters building into twenty meters of mud in the middle of Vorbar Sultana. By the end of it everyone at the table except Ivan and Tej were laughing.

"Oh, that is priceless!" gasped Quinn. "But you know, what I find the most amazing thing about it is that Miles wasn't involved at all! Normally I would have expected to find him buried up to his eyebrows in something like that!"

"I guess it was my turn," muttered Ivan.

"But speaking of turns," said Quinn's flag captain, "I have to get back to the bridge. If you will all excuse me." He started to rise.

"Actually," said Quinn, "I think it's time for us to wrap this up, as pleasant as it's been." She got to her feet and everyone else did as well. She turned to Ivan. "Well, this was fun. Thank you for dropping by. Perhaps we'll meet again at some staff meeting. And do say hello to Miles for me when you see him again." She turned abruptly and walked out with her flag captain. The Polian glanced back for a moment but then followed. Another Dendarii officer appeared as from nowhere and escorted them back to the shuttle bay.

Ivan and Tej stayed silent until they were back on the shuttle and headed for the flagship. "Well that was… odd," said Tej, finally.

"Yeah," agreed Ivan. "And she didn't even give me anything."

"I thought that was the whole reason for this junket!"

"Maybe something went wrong and she couldn't pass me the chip. Vorpinski is going to be pissed."

"Or maybe the data was on a micro-chip put in your wine and _you'll_ have to piss it out when we get back," suggested Tej.

"I wouldn't put it past her," grumbled Ivan.

Bur Ambassador Vorpinski wasn't pissed at all. When Ivan met him in his office he smiled and said: "Well done, Ivan."

"Sir?" replied Ivan in confusion. "I… I didn't get Admiral Quinn's report."

"No, but we did. While the Polian and whatever spies they have on Quinn's flagship were watching you and Tej like hawks, one of Quinn's hanger techs passed the chip off to your pilot."

"Who is ImpSec," said Ivan, nodding.

"Of course."

Ivan shrugged and let out his breath. "Glad it worked out. Hope you got some good stuff from Quinn."

Vorpinski shook his head. "Probably pretty routine, I imagine. We—and everyone else in the fleet—are just keeping an eye on what people are doing. So far as we can tell, everyone seems to be behaving themselves. How long that will go on once we reach Novo Paveo is anyone's guess."

Ivan nodded. He supposed he ought to be angry that he'd been used as a decoy, but he knew that those sorts of things happened and it really was routine. God knew Miles had used him as a cat's-paw often enough!

"And only two more weeks until we get there," continued Vorpinski. "I think that…"

Vorpinski was suddenly interrupted by an awful noise that Ivan recognized as the battle stations alarm. This was confirmed a moment later by a voice on the speakers. The ambassador's eyebrows shot up. "I don't believe that any drills were scheduled for today. This might be the real thing."

It was possible, Ivan supposed. The EnBees could have naval forces pushed out along the jump routes leading to Novo Paveo. The question was how big a force? Just a picket to give warning, or an ambush force… or a battle fleet. "What do we do, sir?"

"Let's stroll up to the flag bridge and see what's happening, why don't we? The worst the admiral can do is ask us to leave."

Not having any other duty in a situation like this, Ivan followed along after Vorpinski. The corridors of the _Prince Serg_ were initially crowded with scrambling, shouting, cursing crewmen trying to get to their battle stations. But as they neared the flag bridge, the crowd vanished and except for a half-armored trooper standing guard at the hatch, the place seemed deserted. A steady series of reports were coming over a speaker: _…Engineering spaces, manned and ready… Damage control parties, manned and ready… portside weapons, manned and ready… All stations, manned and ready, the ship is cleared for action._

The sentry hesitated for a moment before letting them through, but he did and the hatch slid open to admit them. Admiral Vorburke was there with members of his staff studying an enormous holo-display. A myriad of small lights waltzed and pirouetted like glowflies on a summer night. The admiral glanced at them as they came abreast of him. "Trouble?" asked Vorpinski.

"No," said Vorburke, shaking his head. "But we've been spotted." He gestured toward the display. "A small task force near the wormhole we're heading for. A few cruisers and frigates; no threat to the fleet, but almost certainly EnBees."

"Admiral, one of the bogies just jumped," said one of the officers.

"And they are spreading the alarm," nodded Vorburke.

"Well!" said Vorpinski. "I guess things are going to get interesting from here on."

[Scene Break]

"Colonel Fetherbay, we will be dropping the 61st west of Araxa, here, here, and… here." Alby Vorsworth watched as the commander of the BEF ground Forces, Colonel-General Vordanov, highlighted three areas on the map of Novo Paveo that took up one wall of the briefing room. "Each of your battalions will secure a beachhead and defend the landing zone for follow-up forces."

The flagship's main briefing room was packed with officers. The general and his staff, the two brigade commanders and their staffs and the regimental commanders and their staffs filled the room. Alby sat behind Fetherbay, making notes on his computer pad.

"Yes, sir," said Fetherbay. "But according to these briefing documents, the follow-up forces in my 1st battalion zone will not be Barrayaran? Is that correct, sir?"

"Yes. As you know, many of the contingents don't have the sort of assault troops that we do to carve out landing zones. So we are helping them out. Your 1st battalion will be followed up by a mixed brigade of Earth troops. Two infantry battalions, a light armor battalion and an artillery battalion. They're good troops and once they are down will be able to support your men strongly. I don't think you have anything to worry about. And you'll have fire support from orbit if you need it."

Alby nodded to himself. The fleet had control of the space around the planet. The naval battle for the Novo Paveo system had been brief and very one-sided. The enemy ships they had encountered two weeks earlier along the jump routes had retreated in front of the fleet without trying to give battle. Clearly, they were just a trip-wire force to give warning to their companions. But the question on everyone's mind had been: what would be waiting at the end of that last jump? Trying to jump through a heavily defended wormhole was one of the most dangerous and most challenging military operations there was. If the defenders had powerful forces and the will to slug it out toe-to-toe with the attacker, they had the potential to inflict devastating losses. The attacker's options were limited. If you sent a small recon force through to see what was waiting for you, you ran the risk of losing the ships before they could jump back through the wormhole to report—you'd lose the ships and get nothing in return. A stronger recon force had a better chance of getting someone back with the information, but only at the risk of losing that many more ships. Or, you could throw caution to the wind and send your whole force into the wormhole as rapidly as possible and just blast your way through. All three methods had been used dozens of times throughout history and with a wide range of success—and failure.

No one in the fleet had expected a flat-out failure. In order to keep their grand plans a secret, the EnBees had not constructed any formidable permanent defenses to guard the wormhole exit. Most of the great powers had enormously powerful space stations and weapons platforms guarding their strategic wormholes, but those would have been a dead giveaway that the EnBees were up to something in this supposedly minor colony. Even so, the information from Novo Paveo was many months old now and there was no knowing what the EnBees might have built or brought in by their back-door route. They had gotten enough warning of the expedition's departure that they could have sent strong reinforcements. All the intelligence officers were confident that whatever was waiting couldn't be too powerful. The expeditionary fleet was larger than the entire Nuevo Brasilian Navy and no one could imagine the EnBees sending everything they had on a five-month voyage away from home—especially since several of the alliance members had been making menacing moves on the EnBee's borders to tie down their forces. Even so, making that last jump had been a ticklish proposition.

The fleet had paused on the near side of that jump for several days. 'Deliberating' the admirals said. _Dithering_ was Alby's description of it. Of course, he'd admitted that making the decision was a whole lot easier when it wasn't _his_ decision to make. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if the lives of thousands of people had been in his hands.

In the end, the council of admirals—and unfortunately, it _was_ a council: no one person was really in charge—had decided on Option Three: full speed ahead and keep your fingers crossed. Alby had kept his fingers crossed and fortunately, it had proved to be the right decision. The EnBees had obviously been dithering, too. They'd kept a squadron powerful enough to gobble up a small scouting force near the wormhole exit, but they hadn't been willing to commit their whole force. And their whole force had been pretty impressive, including several battleships. If they had all been ready and waiting by the exit, the expedition would have been forced to pay a high price. But the problem with such a move was that if the attackers had enough ships—as they did—then the defenders would have had no hope of withdrawing from that close range fight when the odds turned against them. They might have taken twice their strength with them, but in the end they would have been annihilated. The EnBees hadn't been willing to sacrifice themselves in that manner. So the expeditionary fleet had pushed its way through, lost a few small ships, destroyed a few small ships of the enemy, and taken control of the wormhole exit.

The enemy had fallen back, first to Novo Paveo, and then to their back-door wormhole exit. Ultimately, when their pursuers had gotten close, most of them had made the jump to wherever that wormhole led to. A number of their smaller ships had fled into the outer system rather than jump. They were still out there, keeping an eye on things.

The main fleet had moved into orbit around Novo Paveo and caught up with the situation on the ground. Unfortunately, it wasn't good. In the period since the rebel envoys had left to seek help, the EnBees had brought in a lot of ground troops and pushed the rebels back on almost every front. Indeed, the rebellion was now hanging on by its fingernails in just a few strongholds scattered around the planet. The rest were dead or in hiding. The new planetary governor insisted that there was no rebellion, no independence movement, just a few scattered terrorists. No assistance was necessary, thank you very much. Now please go away.

The expedition's commanders weren't buying it, of course. The rebel envoys, returning with the expedition, had been able to make contact with their compatriots on the planet and insisted the rebellion was very much alive—and very much in need of immediate help. Burnt-out towns and unburied bodies, which could be seen from orbit, leant credence to their appeal. Help would be forthcoming.

So, the armies would land. The question was: where? Planets are big places, even planets mostly covered by oceans. And while the expedition was bringing a substantial number of troops, there weren't enough of them to occupy the whole planet. Not even close. So they needed to seize the key locations and then—hopefully!—turn things over to a revitalized rebellion. Alby wasn't quite sure when the expedition's mission had changed from peacekeeping to helping the Novo Pavean independence movement succeed, but it seemed pretty clear that it had. Not surprising, really, he supposed. Thwarting the EnBee's ambitions had always been a major reason for this whole operation, and helping the rebels throw off Nuevo Brasilian rule was the surest way to do that.

The biggest objective was the planetary capital of Araxa. It was a good-sized city of about a million people. Or it had been before the rebellion. It had changed hands at least three times during the fighting and was about to change hands again. Alby doubted that a million people lived there now. From the rumors he had heard, there had been quite a kerfuffle among the high command over who would have the honor of liberating Araxa. The result was that just about _everyone_ would be liberating Araxa. Nearly every member of the alliance would have forces involved in that part of the operation—no matter how little military sense that made. Hence the brigade from Earth following the 61st's 1st battalion down.

The briefing went on. Other officers had questions and since they didn't concern Fetherbay's regiment, Alby relaxed slightly and stopped taking notes. He glanced at Rad Benin, but the Cetagandan was still following the briefing intently. Rad wasn't a bad fellow, Alby supposed, but he was so damn intense. The Cetagandan forces would be landing east of Araxa and Alby imagined that Rad probably wished he was with them.

Alby found himself staring at the painted symbol on Rad's right cheek. Rad had tried to explain the meaning of the red, white and black pattern. Some sort of clan insignia, but the details eluded him. When the Cetagandan had become his roommate Alby had wondered how the devil he managed to paint a design that complex and how long it took every day. But later he found that Rad cheated. He had an amazing little device with tiny spray nozzles. He just held the thing to his face for a few minutes and presto, the design was perfectly painted every time. Rad admitted that traditional ghem held such devices in disdain and insisted that only hand-painted faces were truly proper, but for a serving officer the auto-painter was a godsend.

"Now, as to the expected enemy resistance," said the general jarring Alby out of his musings. "Colonel Nimick will fill you in." The G2 officer stood up and pointed to the display.

"We are not expecting any serious opposition to our landings," said Nimick. "And while that might seem like good news, it really isn't. There is nothing we'd like better than for the EnBees to meet us in an open battle, but the enemy clearly realizes that they cannot win a stand-up fight with us—not with the fleet in orbit and us able to strike wherever we choose. We know from our intelligence sources on the planet that over the last four or five months the EnBees have been pouring in reinforcements and heavy equipment—hence the poor shape of the independence movement—but in the last few weeks, most of those forces have been disappearing. As you know, the EnBees were planning to make Novo Paveo into a major military base for future expansion and as part of that plan they have constructed underground shelters in secret locations that are screened against long-range sensors. We believe that most of their military forces have been retreating to those bases in the face of our arrival." Nimick paused to let that sink in.

"Therefore, we believe that they will not make any serious attempt to oppose our initial landings. Instead, once we have established ourselves in known locations, they will probably initiate a campaign of low-level actions, no doubt in conjunction with loyalists among the civilian population, intended to inflict the maximum number of casualties upon us at the least cost to themselves."

The assembled officers were silent. This wasn't what they'd been hoping for. No glorious victory and a quick return home. A long, drawn-out campaign against an elusive foe…

"What fun," muttered Alby.

[Scene Break]

"_Let's go! Come on, move it! Move it!"_

It seemed to Anny that every NCO and junior officer in the battalion was shouting that same message. It was completely unnecessary, of course. The invasion had been planned to the split second and the shuttles would not be launching for another fifteen minutes and the de-orbit insertions wouldn't happen for another half hour after that. They had plenty of time to get the men aboard the shuttles.

But the NCO's and junior officers shouted all the same.

Still, she could hardly blame them; after more than four months aboard ship everyone was itching for action—any kind of action. She, herself, though not itching for combat, was eager for anything to break the routine that had been forced upon them for so long. Her troops were bored and restless and she had to admit she was, too. She found herself giving a couple of shouts along with the rest.

"Just like a drill, people! Find your spots, secure your gear and get buckled in. Stubinski! Lulubelle is _not_ coming with us today! Leave her with the quartermaster!"

Her platoon boarded the assault shuttle and strapped themselves into their assigned seats. Anny's place was right next to the rear ramp. She would be the first one out. In the assault regiments the officers led the way. Perhaps not the most tactically astute thing to do, but tradition demanded it, and it was good for morale for the men to see their officer out in front. Sergeant Kay finished up with something and then seated himself opposite her. "All secure, ready to drop, sir," he said, smiling in satisfaction.

Anny ran her eyes over her platoon and then did so again on her status displays. Everything looked green although her men's heart rates and respiration were all elevated. Well, so were hers. After all this time and all the drills this was the real thing. And nearly all her troops were seeing combat for the first time.

_If there is any combat._

The latest briefings indicated that the EnBees probably wouldn't try to oppose the landings. They'd lay low for now and try to hit back later. A lot of the men—and more than a few officers—had voiced their disappointment, but Anny wasn't one of them. She knew exactly how harrowing a drop under fire could be. An unopposed landing was perfectly fine with her!

For one thing it meant that she had her whole platoon in one shuttle. When serious opposition was expected they would usually try to split platoon between two shuttles on the 'too many eggs in one basket' theory. But there was a serious shortage of assault shuttles in the fleet and with the predicted lack of opposition, the higher-ups had decided to go with the double-loading. It was a risk, but Anny had never liked the idea of having half her platoon at the mercy of chance or some disoriented shuttle pilot.

A series of thumps and clanks told her that launch was imminent. "All right, third platoon! Here we go! Visors down! Check your seals!" She followed her own order and the armored visor on her helmet swung down and her status display confirmed there was an airtight seal. Assault shuttles had a nasty habit of getting holes poked in them and losing pressure. A few moments later the shuttle pilot announced: "Standby, launching in five… four… three… two… one… now!"

There was a sideways lurch and then a steady acceleration. As an officer, Anny had the enviable privilege of tying into the shuttle's exterior video pickups. And the image wasn't just some tiny window in a heads-up display. The neural interface in the armor allowed her to see as if she actually outside the shuttle, bareheaded.

And the sight was breathtaking.

The vast armada was all around her. Many of the ships were just bright specks, but others were close enough to see clearly. Hundreds of smaller objects were being disgorged from the larger ones—assault shuttles, vehicle landers, small craft of all sorts. They looked like flocks of birds. It was impressive as hell. Barrayar hadn't conducted an operation like this since the Escobar invasion forty years earlier.

She was suddenly struck by the incredible amount of _effort_ that had gone into this. Every ship, every shuttle, every tank and gun and piece of equipment from the smallest to the largest had to be made by someone. Every man and woman aboard the vessels had been painstakingly trained and prepared for this moment. And then it all had to be transported across distances too vast for human minds to really grasp. She found herself tingling.

Novo Paveo turned below her and its enormous moon was just rising beyond the curve of the planet. By this time Anny had seen quite a few different worlds, and while it was true that you couldn't judge one just by its looks any more than you could a person, this one looked pretty good: blue seas, fluffy white clouds and green and brown land masses. Humans could live there without any artificial aids and that was always a good thing.

But the enemy was down there… waiting.

She looked again at the massed power of the fleet. _What could possible stop us? The EnBees will be sorry they waited! They'll wish they'd run instead!_

The shuttles were sorting themselves out and moving into formation and those formations were setting themselves into the trajectories that would take them down to their targets. The sixteen shuttles carrying the 1st Battalion, 61st Regiment of Imperial Infantry, were closing in around Anny. An endless stream of chatter between pilots and controllers aboard the bigger ships flowed past Anny's ears but finally the message she'd been waiting for came: "Stand by for acceleration. De-orbit burns in thirty seconds."

Reluctantly, she withdrew from her god-like grandstand and checked over her platoon again. They were all just as she had last seen them. At least they were per the status display. She clicked to the 'visors up' mode to see their facial expressions. She winced when she saw that fully half the platoon had managed to disable that feature in their armor. Someone had figured out how to do that a few months earlier and it had been spreading like some disease, despite stern warning not to do it. Another great idea defeated by reality. Those troopers she could see looked excited and a little scared.

A strong jolt of acceleration hit her as the thrusters fired. It lasted for about thirty seconds and then faded. "Okay, we're on our way down," she announced. "Hang on: this might get a little rough."

Nothing happened for several minutes, but then there was a slight vibration that quickly grew as the shuttle encountered the steadily thickening air. Anny switched to the exterior view again, but could see nothing except a white blur. Her tactical display was more informative and the battalion's shuttles seemed to be right in the groove. The landing zone was just beyond the horizon.

An announcement came over the command circuit: "Pathfinders have landed, no resistance reported." A few dozen troopers had been sent in ahead of the main landing, using ablative pods rather than shuttles. Their task was to make sure that no traps or ambushes were waiting for those who followed.

Anny felt a tinge of guilt—not that there had been no resistance, but that she wasn't down there already. As the only one in the regiment who had actually made a combat landing using the pods, she had volunteered to lead the pathfinders. The Colonel had thanked her but turned her down. She had been simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

The vibrations that had been buffeting the shuttle slowly faded. "Going subsonic," announced their pilot. "ETA, two minutes."

"Okay, get ready!" she ordered. "When we touch down, I want an empty shuttle in twenty seconds!" Anny tensed: this was the most critical moment. If the enemy did have any surprises in store, they would unleash them now, when the shuttles were low, slow, and filled with troops. She remembered the near-disaster on Dounby where they'd almost lost Alby and a bunch of other troopers when their shuttles were hit moments before landing.

But the seconds passed and nothing hit them and the ground grew nearer and nearer. Her armored hand went up to her chest and the instant she felt the shuttle touch ground she slapped her harness release and surged to her feet. The rear door was already swinging open. "Let's go!" she shouted and sprang forward.

Her boots thumped down on the soil of Novo Paveo, but her eyes were on her tactical display. C Company was on the eastern edge of the battalion's landing zone, facing the city of Araxa, which was about ten kilometers away. She could just make out a few tall buildings in the distance. Her troopers were out of the shuttle in the required twenty seconds and began fanning out in an arc that would link up with the other companies of 1st Battalion, enclosing a landing zone for the follow-up forces. The weapons company would form a central reserve and there was an attached sapper platoon who would do a thorough scan of the area for hostile booby-traps.

The landing zone was two kilometers in diameter, give or take, and allowing for company and platoon reserves, that meant about 20 meters of perimeter for each man. Anny's platoon was stretched into a thin line almost 800 meters long. Not too bad, really. Prescribed spacing in most situations was about ten meters per man. They'd practiced this deployment a hundred times in the simulators and now her men moved to their positions with hardly a word needed from her or the squad leaders.

"First squad, in position. No contact."

Her other two squads reported the same and she clicked the command circuit to Captain Vorstang: "Third Platoon, on assigned positions. No contact, sir." Switching back to her platoon circuit she commanded: "Okay, Third Platoon, on your toes. Just because they didn't meet us at the door doesn't mean nobody's home. They may just be waiting for the follow-up forces. Stay alert!"

But a quarter hour passed with nothing to report. She bounced up and down her line checking on the men, but they were all in position, making use of what cover was available. They had landed in some sort of park with open fields, patches of woods, and some athletic facilities. The latter appeared to have been looted and the sports fields hadn't been mowed in a long time. They had seen no signs of any civilians.

She wondered how Jer was doing with 3rd Battalion. The few messages that had been passed through from higher up indicated that everyone else was meeting pretty much the same situation as C Company.

One of the pathfinders came through her lines and headed for battalion HQ and a little while later a sapper detachment moved up from the rear with their scanners. They placed a few sensors just beyond her front and then prepared to leave again.

"Finding anything?" she asked the sergeant in charge.

"A couple of scanner relays. Not sure if they were meant for us or were just leftovers from something earlier. We disabled them. No dirty tricks that we could find. Place looks clear, sir."

"Good." The sappers moved off.

"Attention 1st Battalion! Second wave is on approach. ETA ten minutes. Stay alert!" The message came direct from Major Vorglanov. "If the EnBees have any tricks planned, this is probably when they'll use them." Anny made sure that her men were on guard and that the squad leaders were paying attention to both their men and their sensor read-outs. A few moments later a notification came through from the air-defense platoon in the weapons company that they were linking all the troopers into their network. This effectively turned each man into a point-defense turret. In the event of a missile attack, every suit of battle armor would automatically try to fire at the incoming ordnance. It was not the sort of thing you could do during an active battle, but in a purely defensive posture like this, it could expand the air-defense envelope significantly.

Time passed and Anny's tactical display showed the reinforcements approaching. Most of them were not in the speedy assault shuttles, but in larger, clumsier landing boats of one sort or another. They would make very good targets if anything was ready to fire at them…

But nothing did, and a few minutes later she could actually see a swarm of large shapes settling toward the ground to her rear. Messages over the com channels indicated a certain level of confusion, but no alarm. The reinforcements were coming in unmolested. Or at least these were. There were indications of some fighting over in the Cetagandan sector, but apparently nothing too serious.

Nearly an hour went by before the word came that they would be moving out. One of the incoming battalions would take over the landing zone security and the 1st Battalion of the 61st would join the Earth brigade in an advance on Araxa. The plan called for one company of the assault troopers to work with each of the Earth battalions. C Company would be going with the 48th Highlanders—who were moving up behind them even now.

"All right," commanded Captain Vorstang, "on your feet! Platoon commanders make contact with your opposite numbers and get ready to move out."

"Here they come, sir," said Sergeant Kay, who had come up beside her. Suddenly he pointed. "What the hell is _that_?"

A line of infantry emerged from the trees but Kay was pointing at one particular soldier who was leading the way. He was wearing light combat armor, as were all the others, but he was also wearing a knee-length skirt of outlandish plaid fabric and holding a very… _strange_… object that was making a terrible racket. As he got closer, Anny could see that it was a sort of sack and the man was blowing into it through a long tube.

He came right up to her and stopped walking and—thankfully-blowing. Another man with officer's insignia approached. "Are you Lieutenant Payne?" he asked.

She flipped up her visor and saluted. "Yes sir. And you are Captain MacAllister?"

"That I am, Lassie. Well, let's be about it, shall we?"

"Yes, sir. Third platoon, move out!"

She turned and led her troopers forward. Behind her he heard MacAllister command: "Millin! Blue Bonnet! The rest of you rascals come on! _Dileas Gu Brath!" _The Earthers gave a loud cheer and followed. The man with the sack-thing began blowing again and Anny moved away as quickly as she could.

Her troopers formed a skirmish line in front of the Highlanders, perhaps two hundred meters ahead. Her tactical display showed the whole force expanding outward from the landing zone. One of the Earth battalions had some light tanks, but they were holding back for the moment. There was a unit of self propelled artillery as well. And if it really hit the fan they had a unit of forward observers trained to bring down fire from orbit.

So they were ready, but so far they hadn't encountered a single thing worth shooting at. They left the parkland behind and moved through a suburban residential district. The houses looked deserted and looted and several had been burned. Their sensors revealed nothing dangerous—or living. They covered a few kilometers…

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Payne!" It was Sergeant Rollins, 3rd Squad.

"Payne here, what have you got?"

"Over here, sir! Two hundred meters to your right."

"Trouble?" She checked her sensors, but everything still looked quiet. She headed in that direction without waiting for an answer.

"N-no, sir. Not for us anyway. But you might want to come see this."

"On my way."

She bounced over and saw Rollins and two other troopers on the edge of a ravine. She came up beside them, looked down, and swallowed hard.

The ravine was full of bodies.

A couple of hundred at least. They'd obviously been there a long time and the flesh had mostly fallen or been picked off their bones. Dark stains covered their tattered clothing. Men, women, children. No uniforms. Not soldiers. Some of the skulls showed obvious weapons hits.

She tore her eyes away and clicked her command circuit. "Captain? We've found several hundred bodies. I've marked the location on your display. Do you want to tie into my video, sir?"

"Acknowledged. Negative on the video." Vorstang's voice was utterly expressionless. "Continue your advance. You… you'll probably find more, Lieutenant."

_More? But… God, then we aren't the first to find something like this?_

While she stood there, Captain MacAllister caught up with her. "What's going on, Lassie…? _Bloody Hell!"_

She looked back at him.

"Welcome to Novo Paveo."

End of Book 2


	20. Second Interlude

Second Interlude

Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan looked at the face of his emperor and inwardly grimaced. Gregor looked… tired. The burden of ruling the Barrayaran empire had never rested lightly on his shoulders. He took the responsibility he bore so _very_ seriously. This was clearly a lesson he'd learned from Miles' father during his years as regent for the young Gregor and then later as his prime minister. Aral Vorkosigan had let the burden use him up. War, insurrection, politics and sorrow had drained him. He wasn't _that_ old, but Miles could not help but think of the ancient white-haired man he saw in the vids he got these days from his parents on Sergyar. With galactic medicine available to him, his father ought to live another thirty years, but he looked so tired… just like Gregor. Was Gregor headed down that same road? Used up at seventy? _What about you, kid? Are you going to be used up at fifty?_ It was something he tried not to think about. Especially since he felt duty-bound to try and ease Gregor's burden as much as he could.

"Miles?" He twitched when he realized that Gregor was looking at him. "What do you think?"

"Uh…" What had they been talking about?

"About Vordalla's request to pull those ships out of Novo Paveo," hinted Gregor gently.

"Oh. Well, it is true that the fleet doesn't have a lot to do way out there. There's no sign that the EnBees are planning a large counterattack through that wormhole. And it is just a cruiser squadron Vordalla's asking for. That still leaves Admiral Vorburke a powerful force in case of emergencies. And a lot of the other contingents have already sent ships home. We wouldn't be the first."

"I know," said the Emperor, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his right temple. They were in his private office with several of his ministers for a weekly conference that somehow Miles had become a member of. "But I'm worried about the effect on the morale of the troops we have on the planet. They've been there six months, fighting a series of nasty little skirmishes and with no end in sight. How are they going to feel if they see some of their comrades allowed to go home while they are stuck there?"

"We were talking about rotating the troops. Sending in fresh units and allowing the ones there to come home."

"That could prove to be extremely costly, Sire," said Lord Vorglas, the treasury minister. "Just sending the forces already there supplies and replacements is costing thirty percent more than the initial forecasts. Sending whole new regiments and withdrawing the others would cost far more."

"So we just leave our men there to bleed?" asked Gregor frostily. "For how long?"

Vorglas shrugged. "That is a matter of strategy at the highest level. As Your Highness may recall, I opposed this venture from the start."

Miles frowned and remembered Gregor's own doubts before this was all decided upon. The expedition was starting to look like a bit of a fiasco. The alliance had descended on Novo Paveo with overwhelming force and it should have been a cakewalk. But the EnBees were not cooperating. Instead of standing out in the open and getting crushed like they were supposed to, they had retreated to hidden bases and were fighting a guerrilla war. Death squads had so thoroughly terrorized the populace before the alliance arrived that the anticipated popular support for their liberators had not materialized. The independence movement, whose ambassadors had started this whole thing with calls for aid, was technically back in power, but their government was corrupt and ineffectual with no hope of surviving without the military backing of the alliance.

And the alliance was beginning to fray. Ships and troops were being withdrawn and promised supplies and aid to the locals were not being received. Barrayar and the Cetagandans were—so far—standing firm, neither one willing to give the other the leading role, but others were calling it quits.

"So, remind me: how was this thing supposed to end?" asked Gregor wearily. "It has been suggested by some of Vordalla's analysts that we send another task force, perhaps another reinforced division, to Novo Paveo. We make a great deal of this in the press, produce a lot of smoke and flames for a year or so, declare victory, and then bring everyone home—no matter what the actual situation on the ground looks like. Opinions?"

"Could be damned embarrassing if we do that, pull out, and the Cetagandans stay," growled the Foreign Minister. "We only got into this… situation to counter their move. If we leave them in control, then what was the point?"

"In control of what?" asked Miles. "A planet being reduced to rubble by civil war and our good intentions? After their experience here on Barrayar and again on Marilac, I can't see them wanting to be left holding another no-win situation."

"You really think it is a no-win situation, Miles?" asked Gregor.

"It's starting to look that way," he admitted. "We simply don't have enough troops to occupy the whole planet and let the friendly locals put their house in order. If we try to occupy the maximum territory then we're spread too thin to resist serious attacks by the EnBee loyalists and commandos. Tiny garrisons can get gobbled up like what happened to that Escobaran company a few months ago. If we stay concentrated then we concede the bulk of the planet to the EnBees. We've got more firepower and more mobility, but it doesn't do much good to sweep into some area and then leave again. The locals aren't going to trust us to protect them after our troops move on."

"So is there an answer?"

Miles shrugged. "I had a dinner discussion with Auditor Vorthys and his wife, the Professora, the other night. I invited Duv Galeni and we did a little brainstorming about this." Gregor raised an eyebrow and made a 'do-go-on' gesture. "The Professora's historical anecdotes were not terribly encouraging. This sort of situation was all too common in Old Earth history and they rarely ended well. The EnBees stand to lose a great deal if the independence movement succeeds, considering all the resources they poured into their colony, but at the moment they are expending almost nothing, while the alliance is spending hand over fist. If they have the patience to try and wait us out, it's even money they'll win in the end—not that it will be much of a prize by then, of course. Short of a direct war with Nuevo Brasilia at this end, there's not really any decisive move we can make."

"As you say: not very encouraging," sighed Gregor. "Did you come up with _any_ useful ideas?"

"Vorthys was intrigued by the planet's enormous tides and he and Duv got into a discussion about how the oceans divided the planet into a number of small, distinct battlefields rather than one big one. They theorized that if we were to fully occupy an island, root out all the opposition forces, prevent them from coming back, and give the locals the means to defend themselves, then we might be able to pacify the place one tiny nibble at a time."

"Do you think that could work?"

"I don't know. But right now we're just chasing our tails and not accomplishing much of anything. This might be worth a try."

"All right," said the Emperor. "I'll pass this along to Vordalla and see what he thinks of it."

[Scene Break]

"How much longer do you think we'll be staying here, Ivan Xav?" asked Tej. She ran her finger along his bare arm until he twitched and grabbed her hand.

"Stop that. You know it tickles!"

"Yes, I do," she purred. "And I'll keep doing it until you answer my question."

Her husband rolled over in the bed to face her. "Getting bored with this place?"

"A little maybe. It's been what? Nine months?"

"About that." Ivan Xav gave a long sigh and rolled back to stare at the ceiling of their quarters aboard the Barrayaran flagship. "I don't know, Love, I really don't know. We had another full staff meeting this morning. Vorpinski and Admiral Vorburke and General Vordanov and all their people were there."

He didn't go on and after a moment she poked him. "So what did you all talk about?"

"Oh, mostly all the same stuff we always talk about. First the military reports. All the recent ground operations have been generally successful—if your definition of success is that they took the objectives assigned to them, hurt the enemy a bit, and didn't get hurt too badly in return. The navy is doing its job 'successfully', too. They have complete control of the space around Novo Paveo and can come and go as they please."

"Well, that sounds good…"

"Yeah, but if your definition of success is to make measurable progress toward winning the damn war, then well…" Ivan Xav shorted in disgust. "And then—just as it always does—the meeting degenerated into bitching about President Rodrigues and his gang."

"He's really that bad?"

Her husband shrugged. "There's no doubt he's corrupt. At least half of all the money we're giving him to build an army and rebuild the economy here is going into his pocket, or the pockets of his cronies."

Tej blinked. It was still difficult to understand the way governments functioned in the galaxy beyond Jackson's Whole. Her initial reaction to Ivan Xav's statement about the money going into Rodrigues' pocket was: 'where else would it go?' The barons who ran the Whole were absolute rulers of their respective domains. Any and all funds coming in belonged to them and them alone. How they used those funds was entirely up to them. Of course if they didn't spend the money wisely, where it was needed, then, well, they probably wouldn't remain baron—or even alive—for very long.

"Can't the alliance just get rid of him? Put someone else in his place?"

"Like who?" Her husband's voice was sharp and he instantly realized it. "Sorry. Just my frustration showing through. Believe me, we've talked about getting rid of him, but there just isn't anyone else who wouldn't be twice as bad."

"How did he end up president if he's so corrupt?"

"By outliving everyone else, Love. The original leader of the 'independence movement' had been the planetary governor, Vizconde Antoni Mendoza."

"I'm aware of that, Ivan Xav. I've read the briefing books, too, you know."

"Well, now that we've been here a while, ImpSec has managed to piece together the background story. It seems that Mendoza had long planned to seize control of Novo Paveo away from his masters back on Nuevo Brasilia and set up his own little empire here in the back of beyond. He'd been hoping to delay his move until the secret base facilities and factories were completed, giving him the means to build his own army and navy. But when Mendoza received word that his masters were growing suspicious and planned to replace him, he was forced to act early. He did it during the change of command ceremony itself. Mendoza assassinated the new governor and wiped out his entire party. _That_ bit of showmanship tells you more about the man than all the rest of the ImpSec dossier combined. A lighting campaign to follow up also eliminated most of the feared secret police, the JDS."

"Oh, I did hear something about them," said Tej. "The _Justiceiros da Stateus, _to give them their local name. A very nasty group, apparently. But he obviously didn't get them all. I've heard about how they've terrorized the local population."

"Those were new ones who showed up later," said Ivan Xav. "Mendoza had been counting on the support of the young people, the ones born on Novo Paveo, and while he got that, there were still millions who had emigrated from Nuevo Brasilia and who had been thoroughly indoctrinated to be loyal to the mother world. These rallied to the few loyalist leaders who escaped Mendoza's purge, and he was unable to seize the entire planet at a blow. The fighting surged back and forth, but while the loyalists could expect reinforcements, Mendoza's forces could not. Without outside help, Mendoza was doomed. Someone in his inner circle recognized that fact and assassinated him, thinking to save himself."

"Understandable," said Tej. That sort of thing happened on Jackson's Whole from time to time when a baron overreached himself.

"But the rebellion did not collapse as it ought to have. It had gained a momentum of its own and even the death of its charismatic leader could not stop it. Mendoza's martyrdom only enraged his supporters and drove many fence-sitters into the rebel camp. The scheme to bring in the Great powers to help was hatched. And so here we all are…"

"How did Rodrigues end up in charge? I mean I remember him from some of the parties we had on the way here, but he was just a minor official, wasn't he?"

"By the time the envoys returned with us to help, the rebellion had been nearly wiped out. The EnBees poured in reinforcements in hopes of securing things before anyone else could intervene. Mendoza's successor had been killed and the successor's successor as well. Rodrigues was the chief envoy and the only prominent leader left and he stepped into the power vacuum."

"Ah, so he really did outlive everyone else."

"Yeah. He wasn't the best choice—but all the better choices were dead. So the alliance secured Araxa for him and set him up as the nominal leader of Novo Paveo. Things have gone downhill from that point on. Some of the rebels have rallied around him, but the mere fact that he wasn't dead disqualified Rodrigues in the eyes of many. Where had he been while everyone else was getting killed?"

"Huh. On the Whole that would have been seen as cleverness and skillfully playing the game. But here it's a badge of shame?"

"To some people, yeah. The EnBee ruling class, the grandees, are all bound up in codes of honors and such. Doesn't always make sense."

"You mean sort of like those Vor things on Barrayar?" asked Tej, grinning.

"Uh, well, we're trying to avoid comparisons like that," answered Ivan Xav, tapping her on the nose. "But yeah. And it's causing a real problem here. Outside of Araxa, Rodrigues doesn't have much credibility. But until he can actually drum up enough support to secure his rule against the remaining loyalists, he'll need our support. The only recent change is some new orders that came in from home the other day. The high command has a new strategy they want to try out. It might help, but it won't be quick."

"So we're stuck here? For how long?"

"For as long as Vorpinski stays here. The diplomatic situation hasn't really changed, and until it does, this is a diplomatic hot-spot, and he's Gregor's fireman."

Tej sighed and snuggled against him. This wasn't really what they'd been hoping for when they signed on to the diplomatic corps.

"But…" said Ivan.

"But what?"

"I can tell you're sick of being cooped up on this ship…"

"I grew up mostly on a space station," interjected Tej, "But yes, it would be nice to get off, at least for a while. Where?"

"They've built a diplomatic compound in Araxa for all the new embassies. It's been very well secured with force fields and all the rest. Vorpinski is seriously thinking of relocating his offices down there. We could get a nice apartment inside the compound. Would you like that?"

Tej nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I think I would."

[Scene Break]

Two men, one young and one a bit older, regarded each other across the table in the tavern's private room. The young one, despite his youth, was without doubt the senior of the pair. Scion of a distinguished family and definitely going places in politics. He wasn't entirely happy about being in the same room with the other one, but the meeting place was safe enough—at least from snoopers. He wasn't so sure just how safe his companion was.

Yosef Vorritter, one-time naval officer but now court martialed, dismissed, disgraced, started back at him.

"I want her dead," he said in a low voice.

"Understandable."

"More than that. I want her to suffer before she dies."

"Also understandable, considering what she cost you."

Vorritter began a long, obscene rant against Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, a woman whose only crime, as far as he could tell, was to refuse to allow Vorritter to rape her. The man wanted revenge, a revenge of the most violent sort.

And for reasons the man couldn't quite fathom, Vorritter seemed to think he could help him get that revenge. It was probably because of his old mentor, a man publicly known to have opposed Payne's entry into the military. While he had never shared the Old Man's obsession on that point, apparently their well-known association was enough for Vorritter.

And so Vorritter had been seeking him out, hanging around, and generally making a bit of a nuisance of himself for months. He was half tempted to just tell him to go away, leave him alone, and get his revenge on his own.

But he had learned a great deal from the Old Man, and he had always said to never discard a tool that might prove useful. _Every man has some lever by which he can be moved,_ he had said. And there wasn't the slightest doubt which lever could move Vorritter! Just hinting that he might be willing to help him achieve his revenge would probably move him to do almost anything in return. Such men could be useful if handled properly.

"Well, she's a bit out of reach right now," he said once Vorritter ran out of breath. "You'll just have to be patient."


End file.
